


The Flood

by Icanseenow, Polly_Flint



Series: After The Rain... The Flood [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Family Drama, In a way, M/M, POV Alternating, Parents Castiel and Sam Winchester, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 111,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanseenow/pseuds/Icanseenow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Flint/pseuds/Polly_Flint
Summary: Dean, Sam and Castiel are trying their best to navigate their lives in the bunker. But the fact that Dean and Castiel are a couple and they are all raising Sam and Castiel's nephilim child together means tensions are always running high. And then there's the many things left unsaid between all of them.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester & Original Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: After The Rain... The Flood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725898
Comments: 331
Kudos: 118





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Polly_Flint's "After The Rain", which you should probably read first to follow this story without a hitch. Unlike the prequel, this was written by both of us and differs a little in style and format. It's also a lot longer, so if you're into long stories: settle in. We've grown really attached to this story over the past two years - we hope you get something out of it, too.

"Yum Yum."

She had pulled herself up on one of the chairs in the meeting room and looked around, a serious expression on her face, as if she had something really important to say. Sam was sitting at the table near her, trying to read a book. He raised his head in surprise.

"Did she just say a real word?"

"Yum yum," she repeated impatiently. Her face still showed no emotion.

"I think she’s trying to say a variant of _imuarmar_ , the Enochian word for 'applying oneself'."

Sam couldn't tell where Castiel had suddenly come from. A part of him was annoyed that he’d stolen this moment from him. Castiel was kneeling in front of her, staring at her face in awe. They had the same impossibly deep eyes, Sam noticed not for the first time.

Not one day passed without Sam wondering how he’d ended up here and if he could have done anything to prevent the deep metaphorical rift that had opened up between himself and Dean. Still, he was relieved he at least didn't have to lie to him anymore. All the words had been said, all the curses cast, only time alone would tell if they would be able to survive this conflict or if they would fall apart.

Sam didn't know what the future would bring, but he knew one thing for sure: with each passing day, Charlie resembled Castiel more and more. He shook his head as he watched the strange father-daughter duo. Castiel had crouched down onto the kitchen floor. Charlie was using her small fingers to draw along his eyebrows with great concentration. Dean would have recognized that they were related at some point anyway, there was no way around it, and who knew how he would have reacted then.

"Why should she be speaking Enochian?" Sam stretched out his arms. She broke away from Castiel and walked towards him with uncertain steps. He lifted her onto his lap and she immediately nestled her face against the crook of his neck. He stroked over her soft dark hair. "Are angels born with the ability to speak the language?"

Sam tried, he really did, but he was already overwhelmed by her human needs —how could he cope with the angel part in her? How should it not scare him?

Castiel did not answer immediately. He shook his head. "I speak Enochian with her."

It sounded reproachful to Sam's ears. The "Haven't you noticed?" was implied. Had Castiel become more human? Had the bad Winchester ways rubbed off on him, so that he now mastered their passive aggressive conversation techniques — or had Sam just got better at interpreting him in the past months of shared parenting?

"I doubt that if she knew Enochian, she'd say something stupid like 'applying oneself'." Dean’s entrance into the kitchen was as abrupt as his greeting. He held a beer in his hand. Sam refrained from pointing out that it was just two in the afternoon. He should probably be glad that it was just beer and not something stronger. "She'd probably say 'cookie' in Enochian or something like that."

At the word 'cookie' Charlie looked up and surged around with such force toward Dean that her head collided with Sam's.

"Ouch. God damn it." Sam rubbed his aching jaw and glared at Dean. For a moment, his brother froze, just like the child in his arms.

"She was definitely just saying baby words."

Dean didn't look at him while he continued to talk as if nothing had happened, then Charlie started moving again. Her shrill cry made his ears ring. Combined with her rowing arms and thrashing around, it left little room for interpretation. He knew she wanted him to let her down and be with Dean. He just didn't know why it bothered him so much.

"Everything's fine, Charlie. Calm down." Sam continued to hold her tightly so that her crying grew louder and angrier.

"Why don't you just let her down?"

"Why should she be saying baby words?" By now he had to exert a lot of strength to hold the angry child. He felt his heart beat faster as it pumped adrenaline and other stress hormones through his body. "No one talks to her like that. We all agreed we'd only speak to her in full sentences to help with her language development. Just like we’d agreed not to keep stuffing her with cookies and other unhealthy sugary snacks just so she would like us more."

"Jesus, Sammy. Why don't you just let go off her? What do you think is gonna happen to her?"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do!" Charlie's body felt too warm and exhausted. "I know how to raise my daughter."

Dean shook his head, pursed his lips and took a sip from his beer.

"Just so we're on the same page here, when you say 'we all agreed’' what you really mean is the both of you?" He put the bottle on the table and pointed his fingers first at Castiel and then at Sam. "The biological parents, while I’m just the stupid uncle who teaches her baby language to dumb her down and who poisons her with cookies?"

"Dean, you know that’s not what I meant."

"Yeah, that's exactly what you meant. You never miss an opportunity to remind me of the fact that you happen to be her father and I’m just an sad excuse for an uncle."

"And you don't miss an opportunity to demonstrate that you'd be the much better father. And that I should probably be thrown into jail for child abuse."

Dean turned around without another word. The next moment, the heavy wooden door was slammed shut so loudly that Sam thought the recessed decorative windows would fall out of the anchorage. Charlie flinched.

 _"_ Du du du." She scolded him, her lower lip pushed forward, tears caught in her long lashes, her face a picture of sadness. At least she had stopped struggling. When Sam put her back on the floor, she stayed put and only looked at him reproachfully.

"I should go after him." The way Castiel said it, it sounded more like a question than a statement. Sam had almost forgotten his presence. He didn't know why he felt angry with him. Maybe because he hadn't intervened, maybe because Sam was angry with everyone right now, most of all with himself. He managed to swallow down the anger and disappointment and shrugged.

"Just give him a little time." Sam leaned over to his daughter to press a kiss on her hair. "I’m sure he'll cool off. Eventually."

It wasn't the first time that the goddamn volcano that was boiling right under them had spewed up hot steam. It wasn't the first time they'd continued as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Hours passed without Dean or Castiel appearing again, hours in which Charlie was being extraordinarily fussy and tearful even for a toddler. Although she was obviously tired and had hardly slept at night, he couldn't get her to take a nap, so Sam finally gave up and took her out of her bed.

The day passed painfully slowly. In the evening Sam tried to feed Charlie a homemade mush of carrots and potatoes. It didn't work very well. She ate a spoon full and her face twisted as if he had fed her lemons. After that every other attempt Sam made to feed her failed. She let the food run down the corners of her mouth. The orange mush went everywhere except where it was supposed to. It was stuck in her hair, she smeared it all over her clothes and the high chair. There was even a puddle on the floor. Of course, Sam stepped into it. She was only interested in the spoon itself, which she repeatedly grasped with her hands and pushed it into her mouth without anything on it.

"You know I spent over an hour in the kitchen trying to cook this goddamn healthy food, while I rocked you in my arms and sang to you." He took the spoon from her and put it back into the mash with so much force that splashes of carrot hit him in the face. "If you think I'm gonna serve you something else just because you cry hard enough, then you're mistaken!" He took up the spoon again. "So would you please just open up your mouth and eat! "

She turned her head away but he held her tight.

She cried.

He couldn't tell if she was really targeting the bowl in front of him or just trying to push his hand away, but in the next moment the red plastic plate and its contents sailed on to the tiles.

"Fuck!"

He hadn't wanted to shout at her, but it had happened and now she was crying for real. Tears made their way over her carrot-smeared skin. He bent down to get the plate, forced himself to breathe calmly, and picked it up. All the baby books he had read said it was normal to be stressed out. That every mother —he considered the word with bitterness— would eventually reach the point where she wanted to curl up on the floor and just cry. That you had to make sure that the baby was kept safe and then leave the room to calm down first.

_Breathe in and out deeply ten times. Never shake your baby._

Sam didn't leave the kitchen. He stood at the sink, turned on the water, cleaned the plastic plate, and imagined that he was somewhere completely different. In a haunted house maybe, or chasing some vampires.

How strange. He’d never thought he would miss hunting someday. But if he was being honest, he knew he didn't miss hunting itself; he missed a life in which you could independently decide when to go to the bathroom without having to take a toddler with you, who, as soon as you looked away, would be busy unrolling the toilet paper roll.

 _"_ On TV babies always look cute and they smile nonstop." He took paper towels to wipe up the mountains of mush. He threw them into the trash can.

"And where is Castiel when you need him?" he thought as he rinsed the rag under running water. "Why does he get to teach Charlie Enochian and read to her, while I get to cook baby food and change her dirty diapers?"

He tried to push the feeling of injustice and despair that threatened to overpower him out of his heart. Charlie had put her face on the smeared table. Her blue eyes followed his every move. Every now and then a sob went through her body.

"This was you, you know." He pointed to the rag in his hand. "You spread this crap all over the floor."

She was tired. So was he. He felt guilt towards her, just like he felt love.

"Dada."

And then, when she smiled at him, he only felt love.

"Well, little monster, come here, it's time for bed." She put her arms up to him so that he could easily lift her out of the chair. "Daddy still loves you very much, okay?"

He could not remember when he’d become this foreign person, babbling cutesy love declarations to his child.

It didn't even bother him anymore that she nestled her dirty face against him. His clothes were in need of getting washed anyway. Maybe after Charlie was asleep he could get that gone.

"Just bathe Charlie, get her ready for bed and then you have time for yourself, " he tried to encourage himself. "You're exaggerating how bad it is, it’s just your typical stupid self-pity again. The day is almost over and it wasn't really that bad, was it?"

He was about to turn towards the door when Dean burst into the kitchen, heading towards the fridge. He just nodded at Sam as he passed —maybe he just nodded at Charlie— then he opened the fridge, sighed and closed it again. "Man, we’re almost out of food. Someone really needs to go out and buy stuff."

Sam could tell by his voice that they still had a long way to go until things would be okay between them.

"I guess the house elves could do it." Charlie's eyes were almost closed, so he kept rocking her in his arms. He knew he was babbling, he couldn’t stop himself. "Oh no, I totally forgot that they always have days off now that they got more rights."

Dean gave him a quick irritated look. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but it doesn't matter." He continued to look around for something to eat.

"Tell me, when and how should I have left the bunker to buy food?" Sam gestured to the child in his arms. "We said it was too dangerous to go with her if the angels-"

"I wasn’t criticizing you. Jesus, why do you always gotta feel so attacked? "

"Because you..." He shook his head. That wasn't the hill he was willing to die on. What was the point of another fight?

Only now that he looked his brother in the face did Sam notice that Dean was freshly showered and wearing a crisp shirt. He smelled of aftershave.

"Are you gonna head out?"

Charlie had fallen asleep. Her chest rose and fell evenly. Sam wondered if it wasn't enough to just wipe her down with a wet towel. She could take her bath the next day. It didn't really matter.

Dean nodded while unscrewing a glass of sausages. The sausages looked like pickled fingers. Sam wondered how long the glass had been on the shelf. At least the label suggested that they had bought at some point and that it wasn’t left over from the Men of Letters.

"Somebody has to make sure that we get some money."

"You want to hustle pool?"

"No, I want to rob a bank."

Dean finished his sausage and screwed the lid back on. Sam was silent. Dean put the sausages back onto the shelf.

"I could ask Castiel if he wants to look after Charlie. I could come with you and-"

As soon as he said it, he knew it was a bad idea. He wouldn't leave Charlie alone with an angel. Sam hardly managed to take care of her himself, how the hell should Castiel manage? Sam couldn’t imagine him successfully dealing with her mood swings, full diapers and fussy eating. Castiel didn’t understand practical life necessities.

Dean’s dismissive hand movement hurt anyway. "Nah, it's fine."

"But-"

Sam hid his face behind Charlie's head. The skin on her neck was as soft as velvet and she smelled of carrots.

"You can't play pool half as well as me." Dean shrugged. "And there's supposed to be a haunted abandoned farmhouse near Olathe. Maybe I'll take a look on the way back."

"You want to go on a hunt? But we said-"

"Yes, _we_ said that _we_ don't want to hunt anymore because _we_ got a child now." Sam hated how he emphasized the words. "It sounds like a simple salt-and-burn. And anyway, you made it very clear that it’s not like it matters if something happens to me or not." He snorted. "Wouldn’t that make things easier for you anyway, with the whole happy nuclear family thing that you got going on?"

"Don't do this." He grabbed Dean's arm as tightly as carrying Charlie would allow him to. "Please."

"What do you not want me to do?"

_Don't exclude me from your life. Don't see me as a competitor for something that isn't really there. Don't hate me._

"Don't put yourself in danger." Sam looked at the child in his arms. "You know that Charlie needs her uncle."

Something in Dean's eyes softened. He stroked over Charlie's cheek.

"We'll see. Besides, it’s just one lousy ghost. I’ll manage."

One last look. When Sam heard the door clang, he knew he was alone.

* * *

Sam went into the kitchen to make tea for Charlie. She had only slept briefly, before waking up crying. When he staggered back towards his room with the bottle in his hand, he anticipated another sleepless night and was surprised to hear a voice through the open door. Had he left the television on?

He wasn’t sure why he’d assumed that Castiel of all people, someone who typically avoided crowds and bars, had accompanied Dean tonight. The picture that presented itself to Sam was surprising: Castiel carried Charlie in her arms, singing to her. They both looked calm. Sam wasn't sure why, but he was moved. He would have liked to watch the two a little longer, but as if he had a sixth sense for it, Castiel turned to him.

"It was the molars."

"What?” Sam asked, perplexed.

"Her molars are causing her pain." Castiel kissed her forehead and carefully put her back into bed. "I didn't want to disturb you. I just wanted to give her relief. ”

"You healed her?"

Castiel shrugged as Sam went towards the cot. Charlie kicked lightly in his sleep.

"Somehow there's always something wrong with her." Sam straightened her duvet. "A stomach ache, the fever after she got her shot, her teeth... There is always something new."

"Well, isn't that very human?"

Castiel's expression was as neutral as ever. Sam found it impossible to read.

"Did you- I mean, do you sometimes regret that the spell made her so human? "

Their fingers touched on Charlie's blanket for a second before they both flinched as if they had burned each other.

"Given the circumstances, it was the best option and success proves us right. You are alive and her existence seems to be hidden from heaven so far. "

"That doesn’t really answer my question."

"Sam, I..." He faced him directly. "You are not alone in this matter. Charlie is my daughter, too. I don't want to impose myself on you, but you should know that you can always ask for my help and support. ”

"Alright." Sam nodded.

He might have said more, but Castiel had already turned around to leave.


	2. Year 2

"What are you doing?" Castiel looked at his daughter in confusion. She stood in Sam's lap and held out her open hand in Castiel’s direction. "I don't understand what you want from me."

Sam laughed. "She's picking apples for you." He laughed again. "She wants you to take one."

Castiel moved his chair closer to the two of them.

“Apple?"

"Oh." Castiel still looked confused, as he glanced between Charlie and Sam. "Yes," he finally said in a serious voice. "I would very much like to have an apple."

Charlie turned away from Sam, who was holding her waist firmly. She stretched her arm high up into the air and pretended to be picking from a tree. Then she held out her hand to Castiel again.

He reached for it hesitantly.

"What am I supposed to do now?" It was not clear whether he was addressing Sam or his daughter.

"Now you’ve got to eat it," Sam said, stroking his daughter's hair.

"But-"

"You just have to pretend,“ Sam explained.

It looked slightly bizarre as Castiel, completely out of his element, made his hand into a half-fist, brought it to his mouth, and mimed biting into the air.

"How is it?" Sam grinned.

Charlie twisted in his arms and turned her body towards his. She whispered something into his ears.

"Yes," Sam nodded and stroked some of her hair out of her face. "Your Dad just ate your apple. Even though he doesn’t really get anything out if it. You know, unlike us, he can only taste molecules."

A soft smile formed on Cas' lips now. It was this softness with which he considered Sam and Charlie, that made Dean decide to get out of the doorframe and step into the kitchen.

"I mean, no sane person likes apples anyway..."

"Dean, hey." Sam looked up, visibly spooked. He picked up Charlie and pressed her into Castiel's arms in a swift movement. A few months ago, he would never have done that without great deliberation.

"You do like the taste of apples." Castiel also held Charlie very differently than half a year ago. As if there was nothing more natural in the world than an angel patting the back of his Nephilim daughter. "If the pie consumption that I've observed over the past few years is of any statistical significance, it shows that you like the apple-filled ones the most. Closely followed by cherry fillings."

"You're talking about pie. That's not the same."

Dean went to the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. He sat down at one end of the table and looked at the nuclear family huddled together on the other side. It just wouldn't stop hurting seeing them like that.

"What did Garth say?" Sam asked. He was facing Dean, but his eyes kept flitting back to Charlie, who murmured softly in Cas' arms.

Dean took a long sip before answering. "It sounds like these hunters are targeting him and his family."

"They want to kill them?"

"They want to stuff them and hang them on their walls. They're trophy hunters. Did you know that werewolf heads are worth a lot of money?"

"What did you tell him?" Sam asked.

Charlie had grown louder. When Castiel answered her, Dean realized why he hadn't understood her: she wasn’t babbling nonsense, she was speaking another language.

"She wants to be with you," Castiel explained and got up with her.

"She didn't say my name."

"She said she wanted to be with her uncle."

Dean snorted, but put down the beer bottle, and held out his arms.

He loved it when she wanted to be close to him. He just wished he wouldn’t feel like her enthusiasm was based on her considering him as 'other' —as the fun uncle in contrast to her strict parents.

It was probably nonsense.

He reached for the beer with his left hand and took a sip. When he put it down again, he caught Sam's eye.

"What?"

"I just wish you wouldn't drink so much when Charlie's around."

"Don't worry, I won't give her a drink.“

"No, I know, I just don’t want to normalize it around her. You know, considering Dad and alcohol and our dependency issues…“ Sam trailed off.

Dean raised his eyebrows. Such a big fuss over a single beer. "Are you being serious right now?“

"I just meant-” Sam raised his arms apologetically. "Anyways.“ He rubbed over the arch of his eyebrows. "What did you tell Garth?"

"I told him we didn't really hunt anymore."

"Did you tell him why?"

Charlie shifted uneasily on his lap. Dean looked at her. "Are you alright?"

She just blinked at him. He turned to Sam, then she started moving again.

"She wants you to let her down on the floor," Castiel said.

"Can you read her mind now too?"

"No, I've just spent enough time with her to learn how to correctly interpret certain gestures and facial expressions."

Dean knew Castiel meant it matter-of-factly, but that didn't change how much the words irritated him.

"Do you want to sit on the floor, Charlie?“ Dean asked her.

"Floor," she agreed cheerfully.

He set her down, watching her run across the kitchen floor.

Sam, too, followed her around with her eyes, when he asked again: "So did you tell Garth why we don't hunt anymore?"

"No, I didn't tell him that my brother got impregnated by my boyfriend and that I'm currently housebound because of my nephilim niece, if that's what you mean."

"Dean, that wasn't what I-"

"I told him we decided to stop hunting because we got tired of all that crap."

"And he believed you?" Sam asked in surprise.

"I don't know."

"Dad," Charlie said, hand on the fridge, trying to open it.

Cas and Sam got up at the same time. Sam sat down again and Cas walked over to her.

"He’s asked us to help him." Dean finished the rest of the beer.

"So?" Sam blinked at him. "What did you say?"

"I said I'd have to think about it."

Sam's jaw tightened noticeably. "And helping means what exactly?"

Dean shrugged. "I told him I'll let him know tomorrow." He got up from the table. "I need a shower."

* * *

Dean blinked up at the dark ceiling.

Castiel had joined him in bed a few minutes ago. He did that most evenings when Dean went to sleep, but not always. He wasn't sure what Castiel was doing all night long, except taking care of Charlie, who, unlike him, thankfully needed to sleep.

"I think I’m gonna tell Garth tomorrow that I’m going to help."

He felt Castiel move closer.

"If anyone were out for our heads, I’d wanna be able to count on my friends, too. These assholes want to mount his children onto a wall!“

He exhaled heavily. The thought of what would happen if someone found out about Charlie's existence was weighing on him.

"Are you going to take care of this alone, or do you want Sam and me to go with you?"

Dean turned his head to the side and tried to interpret Castiel's expression. It didn't work. He couldn't see what answer Castiel was hoping for.

"I thought I'd go alone."

Castiel nodded.

"Do you think I shouldn’t go help them? Do you think it’s a mistake to go?“

"No. I have said many times that I am not sure whether it is even possible for you and Sam to stop hunting for good."

“So you’d prefer for Sam to come with me?"

Castiel seemed to think about it for a while. "I don’t have a definite answer to your question."

It was always amazing how easy it was to be hurt by Castiel's words.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

"Is everything okay?" He felt Castiel's warm fingers on his hand.

"Yeah. It’s just - what if something does happen to me tomorrow? You know, I never used to really care, but now-”

"You are not going to die."

Castiel gently stroked through his hair with his other hand.

When he leaned over and started kissing him, Dean immediately reciprocated. They moved in a seasoned way, knowing what the other liked.

They had a lot of sex. The physical aspect of their relationship was vital to Dean. It helped to ground him. It was important to have these moments when only the two of them existed, a place where the two of them functioned perfectly. Where they made complete sense.

He loved Castiel and there was no doubt in his mind that would never change.

That didn’t mean everything was fine between them. Even in the best of moments.

Sometimes, like now, when he was thrusting in and out of Castiel, when he felt his skin shiver under his hands and tried to concentrate on the noises they made together —the thought of Charlie's conception popped into Dean’s mind to torture him.

He had imagined it so many times over the years, in all kinds of variations. He was never quite sure which of them he found the most realistic. Had Sam trembled under Castiel's body. Had they moaned each other's names into their ears and exchanged love confessions. Had it been a quick and drunken thing, or slow and passionate.

Castiel's arms moved around Dean’s neck and pulled him down until their foreheads touched, before he found his mouth.

Had he kissed Sam with the same kind of fervor?

And what had it been that night, that had led Castiel to decide that Sam was the one with whom he had wanted to start a family. If that wasn’t a thing Castiel had secretly been thinking about for a long time. Maybe he had known from the day the two of them had met.

What was it that he found lacking in Dean, that made the thought of having a child with him so impossible. Not that Dean had wanted to be a father - but to not even be considered father material? That was something else. That hurt in ways Dean wouldn’t be able to articulate even if someone put a gun to his head.

Castiel had looked deep inside his soul and had seen something he hadn’t wanted to pass onto a child.

He thought of Sam’s comments about that measly beer, his allusion to John, and grew angrier.

Dean sped up his movements, his fingers dug into Castiel’s shoulders.

Maybe hunting would do him good. It would give him a chance to get out of the house more, for one thing. Get his mind off this nightmare that his life had become.

And maybe he just didn't care about what Sam thought after all, of the fact that he really didn’t want Dean to hunt again. Maybe it was a good thing that Sam was afraid.


	3. Year 3

"Where's Charlie?"

Castiel looked up from his book, a heartbreakingly overwhelmed expression on his face. Dean wanted to laugh, until he saw Sam’s face twisted in anger.

"Do you know who I’m talking about? She's about yay high." Sam gestured a little below his waist. "Brown hair. You know, the daughter you promised to look after?"

"I swear she was right next to me just a moment ago," Castiel said.

Sam brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. Dean recognized this gesture as one his brother often employed right before he exploded. He wasn’t sure if Castiel recognized it too.

"Sam, I..." Castiel faltered.

A deafening clatter broke the silence. Dean automatically followed Sam into the kitchen from where the sound originated. Castiel also followed without another word.

"Glug glug glug." Charlie laughed and held out an empty beer bottle towards them. The other bottles were spread around her on the floor. "Look, daddy —I'm drinking beer."

Dean saw a quick movement at his side, then Sam was already sprinting past him. He snatched the beer bottle out of Charlie's hand and clutched her shoulders.

"Did you drink from it?!" Charlie's eyes widened in terror. "Was there still something in it?"

She shook her head. Dean noticed that someone, he assumed Sam, had braided her hair into a rather intricate braid.

"Are you sure?"

She shrugged. "An ant drank it."

Sam visibly relaxed and loosened his grip. Dean stepped closer and stroked over her head. "If I catch the ant that drank my beer, it's gonna be in big trouble."

"It's already run away."

"Do you think this is funny?" Sam was angry. "She could have gotten alcohol poisoning just because you always leave your stupid beer standing around. We've talked about this before!"

"It was empty, ok!" Now Dean was the one who pushed his hair back. "There was nothing in the bottle for fuck’s sake. Just because you're in a bad mood, doesn't mean you have to-"

"That's not the point." Sam shook his head like a wobble-head. "Why doesn't anyone understand that-" He stepped into something wet and lifted his sock. "What the hell?"

Whatever it was he’d stepped into, it was all over the floor. Next to it -as if for a complicated magic ritual- small bowls and glasses were spread out.

"The milk spilled a little bit."

Charlie splashed her hand into one of the puddles. She had a look of pure innocence on her face, one that Dean recognized from Sam. He laughed again. Sam threw him another angry look.

"So she was with you just a moment ago, mhm?" Sam asked.

Dean had almost forgotten about Castiel's presence.

"She was so very quiet. I assumed she was playing."

"Oh yeah, she was." Sam grabbed a rag and started randomly wiping over the floor.

"I'll help you, Daddy." Charlie had taken a towel and was also wiping up liquid. Her tights were doing most of the work.

"I don't know what it's like in Heaven. I guess all angels are perfect right from the start and don’t have to be raised because they never do anything stupid. But you know, here on earth, children can die if they are not supervised. They put their hands into sockets - or they drink alcohol by accident."

He threw Dean another nasty look before continuing to clean the floor. "What were you trying to do with the milk anyway?" Now he turned to his daughter.

"For the cat?"

"We don't have a cat."

She shrugged and said nothing.

"Angels are never children, not at any time in their lives." Castiel sounded exhausted.

"Good for them." Sam wrung out the rag into one of the bowls.

"Sam, I am really sorry."

"Just tell me if you don't want to look after her."

"This was definitely not my intention." Castiel raised his arms and then lowered them again. As if he didn't know what to do with them. "I just thought —Dean needed this translation and I wrongly assumed I could do both simultaneously. I thought I could translate and look after her at once."

Sam huffed. "Oh yeah, of course when _Dean_ tells you to do something, you do it."

Something in Dean wanted to explode. Fuck the consequences.

It was Charlie's little hand tugging on his shirt that kept him from doing so.

"Uncle Dean?"

"Yes?"

"It's piggy's birthday today."

"No, seriously? Get out of here."

Although she only reached his waist, her grip was surprisingly firm. "I wanna keep playing."

He liked the way she mispronounced some words. He liked how she pursed her lower lip and stamped her foot, too. It always amazed him how easily she managed to wrap him around her little fingers.

"Charlie, do you remember what I told you earlier? About how Uncle Dean doesn’t have time right now because he needs to go?"

Sam leaned over to her. Dean noticed that his voice was no longer angry. He just sounded very exhausted. Dean wondered what else the two of them had discussed alone in the kitchen. He immediately felt a prick of jealousy. At the same time he was ashamed of himself; it was silly to envy a fight.

"Can we just play for a little while?" She begged without letting go of Dean. "Only for a few hours?"

He laughed, as did Sam, then he leant down to her again. "I got to do groceries now."

"Why?"

"Because we won't have any food otherwise."

"Not even candy?" She cocked her head.

"Yeah, no candy at all."

"No pasta either?"

He was confused for a second, until he remembered that Sam had cooked pasta for lunch today.

"No pasta either."

"Come on, leave your uncle be, or he'll never be able to get away." Sam grabbed his daughter's hand and for a moment it looked like she was going to follow him without hesitation, then she turned back to Dean.

"I want to go shopping too."

"You can't, pumpkin." He whispered into her dark long hair. "You gotta stay with Sammy and Cas, maybe then they'll stop fighting for a bit."

"Why?" She had crossed her arms and her face exuded a seriousness that painfully reminded Dean of Castiel. "My seat is in the Baby."

Sam laughed. "One-nil to Charlie, I'd say." He picked her up. "And she's right. Maybe she should go with you? Eventually she has to see more of the world than just the bunker, some remote places in the woods and Garth's family. She's going to get cabin fever. No wonder she comes up with weird ideas to pass the time."

"Are you serious?" Dean snorted. "You want me to take her to the mall?"

"I would come too and we could ask Castiel if he wants to join." He scratched his head. "I think a little change of air would do us all good. We could go on a real-"

"Damn it, Sam! We’ve got pretty good reasons to keep her hidden."

"Yes, but do you really think angels are waiting for us in a shopping mall outside of Lebanon? And even if they were, why would they recognize her? Her grace has been-"

"You really want to risk it?"

"You almost gave her alcohol today. No need to act like I'm a bad father, just because-"

"For the record, I didn't give her any alcohol.”

"I just don't want her to only know the world through TV, is that so bad?"

Charlie looked back and forth between them and chewed on the ear of her stuffed pig.

"Great." Dean turned and disappeared towards his room.

"Great...? Where are you going?"

Sam followed him.

"I'm getting my weapons. Better safe than sorry."

* * *

It took over an hour until they were actually ready to leave.

Sam insisted on properly cleaning the kitchen floor before they left. Charlie had to get changed and didn’t like any of the clothes Castiel picked for her, so they had to wait around for Sam to deal with that too.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, as Charlie put up her hands, asking for help to get her sweater over her head. "This is gonna take another minute," he said. "By the way, did you make a grocery list?"

"A grocery list?" Dean folded his arms in front of his chest. "Why would I need it? My memory is perfect."

Sam huffed, and re-folded Charlie’s sweater. "Yeah, that’s why you brought two cases of beer last time, but forgot Charlie’s vitamins."

Dean was about to argue but he breathed in deeply instead. "Alright, if you still need a minute anyway, I guess I can take stock of the kitchen."

Dean took a look in the fridge and their pantry. He wasn’t gonna write an actual list, obviously, but it couldn’t hurt to see what they were low on. Besides the drinks selection, which he was all too conscious about needing a restock. When he was done, he walked back to Charlie’s room. He was surprised to hear Castiel’s voice. Dean had talked to him in their room just a moment ago.

"It’s fine," he heard Sam say. He didn’t sound too happy.

"I don’t want you to think I don’t want to look after Charlie," Castiel said. "It’s the furthest from the truth."

"I know." Sam sighed. "It’s fine, Cas, I just got worried when I saw her like that."

"I understand," Castiel said. "It won’t happen again, I assure you. I wouldn’t want you to think you can’t trust me with her."

"I trust you. It’s just…"

A silence set in that stretched much too long. Dean felt his heart beat heavily against his chest.

In truth, not much time passed, until Castiel left the room and almost ran into Dean.

Castiel threw him a surprised look, before heading down the hall. They didn’t exchange any words.

Dean was surprised to only find Sam inside. "Where’s Charlie?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "She had to go to the bathroom. Why?"

"Nothing."

"You got the grocery list?"

"Told you I don’t need one." Dean tapped his forehead. "All in here."

Charlie came running, her face flushed. At least she was fully dressed by now.

Sam took her by the hand. "Okay, I think we’re all ready now."

"I need to tell Dad something before we leave." Charlie tore herself away from Sam and sped out of her room into the hall.

"Is Castiel not coming with us?" Sam asked, confusion on his face. Dean tried to see if there was something more in his expression, something like disappointment.

"No."

Sam shrugged, which mystified Dean a little.

-

"Are you going to sing the song with the ladder again?"

The windshield wipers had been dividing the rain for so long. Sam had been silent in the passenger seat and Dean's thoughts wandered off.

_"But Dean, angels don't have to eat."_

He pressed his lips together. What a great reply to his suggestion that Castiel could come along. That they could share a meal while Sam would be off to buy some new pants for Charlie.

_"Maybe we could do something else together? Just the two of us."_

_Castiel had shrugged._

_"I would rather stay here and complete my translation. I also think that it might be good for morale if I keep to myself right now. This way you and Sam can spend some time on your own." His smile had been melancholic. "But if you should worry about Charlie's well-being, all you have to do is pray and I'll be with you right away."_

Dean clutched the steering wheel tighter. Why did it always have to be about life and death? Why could it never just be about sharing a pizza and spending some time with the person you loved?

"You know, Dean, the song by Led Zeppelin."

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. If anyone had told him a few years ago that one day there would be a child seat on the back seat of his beloved Impala, he would have laughed.

_But she's not your child, is she?_

"Do you want me to put on the song or do you want me to sing it?"

She shrugged.

"Both."

Sam laughed.

"You should feel honored. If I try to sing her a lullaby, she puts her finger to her lips and says something like: Shhhh, silence."

"Why do you always act like she's a terrible burden?"

A pair of ravens flew upwards near the side of the road.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You're always just whining about her." Dean sped up the car. "You don't even know how lucky you are."

"I love her, you know I do."

Dean stared at the street ahead.

* * *

"Can we eat a frog?"

"What?"

He held her hand while they waited for Sam, who went to the bookstore. He was glad Sam hadn't mentioned the topic anymore. He'd not mentioned any of the topics that had opened up like a molehill in a garden between them today.

"One made of gum. For dessert."

He laughed and leaned down to her. "We haven't eaten anything yet."

"Yes, we had breakfast."

Fortunately Sam returned and spared Dean the decision whether he should stuff his niece full of sugar or not.

"Daddy!" She let go of Dean's hand and ran towards Sam as if she hadn't seen him for weeks. "I love you so much."

It felt like a glowing knife was being stabbed into his chest.

"I love you too, little monster." Sam picked her up, contemplating her. "You're very sweet, you know."

"Cas put lotion on me today, that's why I'm sweet now." She thought about it for a moment. "But soon, I'll also be bad again." She patted Sam's hair. "Like when I spilled the milk."

* * *

They even had a proper waitress in the Italian corner of the food court. Dean considered the young woman for a moment. She was pretty and in an earlier life he would have flirted with her. Now he just ordered a burger with all the fixings and lowered the menu.

"I'll have a big house salad and the kid's plate for my daughter, please."

Her pen flew over the notepad, then she leaned over Charlie, who was drawing a picture with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

"Are you drawing an angel?"

"This is my dad," Charlie said. "But he's not here." She raised her hands in the air, as if she regretted that he wasn't with them.

The waitress no longer looked pretty. Maybe she was dangerous, maybe just confused. Dean felt for his gun in his jacket pocket. It made him feel safe that it was still there even when Sam gave him worried looks across the table.

"You’re a little angel, too." The waitress stroked Charlie's cheek before leaving.

"Yes," Charlie said without looking up from her picture.

Dean slowly let go of the gun.

"This kind of crap happens when you always have to tell her everything. You didn't want to believe me when I told you that this was gonna happen."

"This kind of stuff is completely normal to her and that's a good thing. It's her life, it’s who she is."

"But she's gonna continue telling people she's an angel."

"So what?" Sam shrugged. "Who's gonna believe her?"

"I didn't tell you what the world was really like when you were a kid, because even at the age of five I knew how dangerous that would be." He took a sip from his Coke. "You needed normality and security, just like she does now."

Sam snorted.

"Maybe I didn't know monsters existed, but I'd hardly call my early childhood normal." Now he looked directly at Dean. "How normal is it to share motel rooms with your brother, never knowing where your father is? So what difference did it make that you didn’t tell me? I was never happy back then, anyway."

The waitress came back and put the food down.

"Who is getting the kid's plate?" She pretended to look around.

"Me, me, me!" Charlie jumped up from her chair.

"Really?” She raised an eyebrow. "Then I bet this ice cream is yours too."

Charlie immediately reached for the colorful bowl while ignoring her fries.

"What do you say?" Sam nudged her.

"Thank you, dear friend waitress."

Her mouth was smeared with chocolate ice cream, but her smile was wide.

"I just want her to have a better childhood than I had," Sam said when the waitress left. "I want her to be happier."

* * *

"I don't like the plane." She held up the small plush airplane she'd been given at a travel agent’s. Sam leaned over and tried to close her seat belt. "Your ears snap off in planes."

At last he succeeded and straightened up again.

"Who told you that?"

"Uncle Dean."

Sam looked at the front seat. Dean shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Uncle Dean likes to talk nonsense sometimes. He just doesn't fly because he's scared of it."

She laughed.

"But you're a brave one, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I sleep alone in my own room."

"There you go. Come on, try to get some rest. We'll be home soon."

They had just left the parking lot, the darkness of the country road filled the car, when her head slumped to the side and she was sound asleep.

"She is a really unusual kid." Dean looked in the rearview mirror for a moment before turning on the upper beam headlights. At this time there was a lot of game change.

Sam nodded.

"I just worry about her being so alone." He turned his head to Dean. "What I said earlier, about having an unhappy childhood... I didn't mean it like that." He licked over his lips. "I mean, after all, I had you. I had my brother and I'm always going to be grateful for that. I wish she had someone, too."

"You want another child?"

Dean accelerated the car so quickly that Sam was pushed back into the seat.

"What? What makes you say that?"

"Well, if you want a sibling for your daughter, it’s pretty obvious what you mean."

His voice was cold.

"No, I don't really want her to have a brother or a sister. I just wish she had someone, like we had each other." His voice broke. "I just wanted for you to know that-"

Dean had fixed his eyes on the dark road ahead.

Sam’s mouth opened and closed again, floundering, until he finally spoke again, in a meek voice.

"Let's just forget I said anything at all, okay?"


	4. Year 4

"Hey."

Castiel looked up from his desk into serious hazel eyes.

"Hello, Sam."

Castiel glanced behind him, expecting to find his daughter in the doorway, but there was no one else.

"Charlie is watching TV. It’s a documentary about space, so I guess it's educational at least.“

Castiel hadn't intended to voice criticism about his daughter watching TV. He had learned a lot about human coexistence through various television broadcasts and Netflix programs. He knew how valuable the experience could be.

He watched Sam carefully as he ran his hand over the nape of his neck, the back of his head and finally through his long hair. "She is currently a little obsessed with space."

"She is very interested in a lot of topics." Castiel nodded and closed the book in which he had just been immersed. A conversation with Sam was always more interesting and important to him.

"Am I keeping you from something right now?" Sam asked with a nod towards the table.

"No." Castiel got up. "I'm just doing some research that Dean asked me to do." He noticed Sam's worried look. "Nothing urgent. Nothing that has anything to do with the ghoul he's hunting."

"Okay." Sam still looked unsure."I really hope he's gonna call soon. I gotta be honest, I’m a little worried. I wish I could just go and check on him and make sure everything is okay.”

"That would not be wise. After all, I can be with him much faster if he really needs help. Do you think he needs it right now? Should I check on him?"

"No. The last time I made you do that he didn't speak to me for two days... "

Castiel frowned.

Sam ran a hand through his hair again. "You didn’t notice?"

"No." Castiel thought about it for a moment. "Why did Dean not talk to you, when he wasn't happy with what I had done?"

"Because you told him you went to check on him because I was worried."

"That was the truth. You were worried and asked me to check on him."

"Yes, of course, but-” Sam shook his head."Forget it."

Sam was irritated. Castiel knew the expression on his face all too well. It never felt good to be exposed to it, even though he should have been used to it by now.

Sam turned to the door and seemed about to leave.

"Sam." He took a step towards him."Wasn't there a specific reason you came to see me?"

Sam's fingers wrapped around the door frame.

"Yeah. It was just —I was thinking —I know we've talked about this before, but are you really sure it wouldn't maybe be a good idea to send Charlie to Kindergarten?”

"Sam, if you need more help taking care of her, all you have to do is ask. You know how much I like to spend my time with both of you."

"No. That's not why I'm bringing it up."

"You often seem dissatisfied when I try to initiate more contact."

Sam gave him a sharp look. “You know why.”

"I know you don't want to upset your brother. But don't you think that our daughter's well-being is more important than his irrational jealousy?"

"Irrational?" Sam looked over his head at the wall.

"I am not aware of any wrong-doings on our part in the past years. I don't know what Dean expects me to do. I feel I am behaving as he asked me to, yet he still seems dissatisfied."

Sam looked at him with a mix of melancholy and sympathy. "I don't think that's something that ever really goes away."

"All the more reason why there is no point in adapting our behavior to his needs, if they cannot be satisfied anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I've read some books on child rearing," Castiel said.

Sam huffed. “Yeah, well, me too, Cas."

"And in some of them I found clear and worrying warnings about children who feel like they're growing up between two fronts. A child can feel when her parents have a tense relationship with each other. It affects their development tremendously."

"We never fight in front of her." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "I don’t know what you want to hear from me. She already knows how twisted her whole family situation is. Maybe now she still thinks it's normal... I mean, she knows that her father, who happens to be an angel, is in a relationship with her uncle. It's only a matter of time before she's gonna ask more questions. What do you want to tell her? That she exists because I was drunk and lonely, and you —whatever you were that night." Sam looked down at his entwined arms.

"She is already asking these questions about where she came from."

Sam looked up again. "She knows we are her parents. And that Dean is my brother and your his -" He paused, and then gave up looking for the right word. “She knows that she is a nephilim, she knows of her suppressed grace. I know we explained all of this to her, but that's not what I'm talking about. I mean..."

"You mean her story of origin." Castiel nodded gravely. "I know. The question of why and how she was conceived."

"Yeah, I guess. Something like that."

"I've already told her that she is a product of my love for you."

There was that discontented look in Sam's eyes again.

Castiel had forgotten for a moment that this, too, was an issue he was meant to lie about.

Sam shook his head and left the library. Castiel paused for a moment and considered going back to his research, but decided to follow Sam instead.He caught up with him in the hallway and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. It felt good to touch him, even if it was such a short and seemingly insignificant amount.

"All I meant to say is that it is important for Charlie that we are a united front. As parents."

Sam's shoulders were almost under his ears. He slowly turned to face him. "You shouldn't have told her something like that. You shouldn't tell her about any kind of feelings you might have for me."

"I only told her the truth,” Castiel insisted. “And you keep telling her how important it is to always tell the truth."

"Yeah, but-" Sam rubbed over his forehead. "What if she mentions stuff like that to the wrong person?"

The wrong person?

"Dean, you mean Dean? I'm not sure if me having feelings for you would be new information to him."

Sam cringed. "Even if it's not, it's definitely not something he'd want to be reminded of. And especially not by her.”

"Well, what did you tell her then?" Castiel cocked his head. "That she was a mistake? That you meant to give her away?"

"Of course not."

"Do you still think that?"

Sam hesitated. "She's not a mistake."

"But if you could take the night back, you would?"

Sam stared at him for a while. He slipped his hand from his forehead. "What's the point of asking these hypothetical questions right now?"

Sam leaned against the wall of the hall. He looked exhausted; his hair was stringy against his forehead.

Castiel suppressed the urge to reach out and push it away.

So many years of self-control. Every time anew he was amazed that these impulses did not cease. Instead, they seemed to be getting stronger with every suppression. He found it irritating.

"I know that the situation is complicated,” Castiel offered. “And I understand that you don't have very positive feelings towards me, and would rather not spend more time with me than necessary. I won't ask you to reconsider your feelings for me, but for Charlie's sake. Is it not the most important thing that we can brush aside these kinds of self-interests to focus on our daughter's welfare? Don't punish her for the mistakes I have made."

"That's not true," Sam muttered. He was rubbing his forehead again, looking anywhere but Castiel. "I mean, it's not true that I have no positive feelings towards you. I'm not angry with you or anything like that."

"You're not?”

“No. I haven't been in a long time.” As Sam smiled cautiously at him, a warm feeling spread inside Castiel's chest. "And I agree with you," Sam continued. "We've got to change something about our arrangement. She is more important than... than anything else. And she never asked for any of this, she never asked to be born."

Castiel nodded. "Do you have a headache?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "Yeah, how did you-" He lowered his hand from his face and understood. "Charlie screamed into my ear earlier and it just won't stop beeping."

It was one of the few moments when he had permission to touch him. Obviously Castiel was not happy that Sam was in pain, but being able to heal him and be close to him brought him joy.

Castiel reached out and gently put his fingers onto Sam's forehead. He left them there longer than necessary, and before pulling it away, he pushed the strand of hair that had been driving him mad behind Sam's ear.

"Thanks." Sam said, but he looked at him as if he had a stomach ache.

"Sam, I..."

"Dad!" The shout came from Sam's room. "Dad! The documentary is over!"

Sam smiled, the worry lines fading from his face.

"I will go back to my research then?" Castiel asked.

"All right," Sam nodded. Then he halted. "Unless, I mean —You're right. We should spend more time together with her. For her sake. So… If you want to?" He nodded towards Charlie's room. Castiel tried not to smile too broadly in response.

Charlie lay in the middle of the bed, in a pink sweatshirt that was too big for her, and striped leggings and stockings. "Another one. Please?"

"She kind of looks like candy wrapper dressed like this,“ Sam huffed. It was not clear to Castiel whether he was amused or irritated. "But she was pretty adamant this morning that she wouldn't wear anything else."

Sam sat down on the bed next to her and picked up the remote control. "Another one, are you sure?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes! More space, please!"

"I'm not sure if we’re gonna find another one. Let me check. I think you've almost watched all of them by now."

Sam gave him a look that was somewhere between amused and desperate. After a little searching, he found a documentary about the origin of the universe.

He sat on his bed, shoved a pillow behind his back, and leaned against the headboard. Without looking at her, he pulled Charlie towards himself. She immediately put her head in his lap and looked up at Castiel. "Come on, Daddy."

It took Castiel a moment to understand that she was speaking to him; when he was alone with her, they usually didn't speak English.

She didn't look up from the screen, although so far only the opening credits were running and a number of professors were being listed who had been consulted for the accuracy of the documentary.

Charlie put her hand in the air, her head still in Sam's lap. "Come on," she ordered.

Castiel gave Sam an uncertain look before sitting down on the other side of the bed. Charlie immediately pulled him closer and slid her legs over his so that she was lying half on him and half on Sam.

It was an unusual situation, unprecedented, where everything immediately felt very right.

The feet of his daughter kept kicking him without much strength. Sam's thigh was flush against his. The soothing voice of the documentary filmmaker spoke of the vastness of space.

Castiel knew he shouldn't get used to this.

"Dad?"

"Mmh?" Sam said.

"No, not you. Cas."

Charlie had turned her head and was looking at him with wide eyes. Dean often said, usually with a tone of irritation in his voice, that she had Castiel's eyes, but it wasn't true. When Castiel looked at her, he saw Sam’s kindness in them.

Castiel gripped her foot out of an impulse that he himself didn't quite understand.

"Yes?"

"Is this your home?" She pointed at the screen.

He hesitated and looked up briefly at Sam, who gave him a curious look just like her.

"The universe is home to everyone and everything. Except for God."

"And where is his home?"

Sam laughed.

"It's difficult to explain,” Castiel said. “He was always there. But where this 'there' is... Well... It's not part of this universe, but it's not around it either, but rather parallel to it." This would be easier to explain in Enochian, he felt.

She looked briefly at the television before looking at him again.

“If you’re from heaven, does it mean I belong there too?“

He felt like being pushed, but in a good way. "Heaven is not space. Heaven is —As far as I know, there are unfortunately no documentaries that accurately depict heaven. But you'll get to know it one day. It's the most beautiful place there is."

She beamed. “I can't wait!"

She put her head back in Sam's lap.

"Heaven is not where you belong," Sam said softly, running his hand through her hair. "You can choose yourself where you belong."

She no longer seemed to be listening, but was instead engrossed in the program again.

Castiel would not have been surprised if Sam had reacted with anger. He knew about his complicated feelings towards heaven, some of which were very justified. But Sam kept quiet, his eyes fixed on the screen, his breath in sync with his daughter's heaving chest.

"I still think it would be a good idea," Sam suddenly said. "To send her to a kindergarten, I mean. Or any other place where she'd get to meet some other kids. I know she's not like other children, but we can't protect her from everything all of our lives. I don't want her only people of contact to be us and Dean."

Castiel looked at him in silence. He had mixed feelings: He liked humanity —there were a few people he more than just liked— but he wished for more for his daughter. Every day that she was without her grace it physically hurt him to see her this way. He knew she was too young to properly notice and understand its absence, but that day would come.

"Cas, if this is about Dean... I know he wouldn't want this, but ultimately it's our decision, not his."

"It's not because of Dean,” Castiel started explaining, just as someone pulled open the door.

Dean looked like a wavering martyr. There was blood running across his forehead, which he didn't bother to wipe away as it dripped onto his cheek. His eyes wandered between them and then Charlie.

"Dean!" Sam shoved Charlie off him and got off the bed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Mission accomplished. Ghoul's dead. ”

Dean looked at his brother intently, his jaw set. "How about you guys?"

"Dad wants to show me his home!" Charlie piped up.

Dean frowned. "You want her to visit Lawrence?"

"Heaven," she corrected.

Dean pressed his lips together tightly.

"She's obsessed with space right now and we were watching a documentary, that's why-" Sam tried to explain but Dean waved him away.

"I need a beer." He left without another word, the door wide open.

"Why is Dean bleeding?" Charlie asked.

"Don't worry," Sam told her, then he turned towards Castiel. "Look, Cas, I-” He halted. He looked torn.

Castiel wanted nothing more than to stretch out his hand and pull it over Sam's forehead, to smooth out all the worry lines. Everything in him was drawn towards Sam at that moment.

With a rumble, Dean announced himself in the door. The bottle of beer in his hands was already half emptied. Most of the blood had been wiped off his brow, but it had been done messily and was still red and smeared. There was a deep cut over his right eye visible now.

"Cas," Dean roughly said. “I need you out here doing your mojo thing."

"Of course." Castiel smiled apologetically at Sam, tearing his eyes from him and got up.

“Uncle Dean, what did you do? Why are you bleeding?” Charlie sounded very upset.

"Don't worry, honey." Dean's smile looked forced. “It's just a scratch. You don't want to see the other guy."

"You know you could have called," Sam said. It didn't sound like an accusation, only worry and relief.

"Yeah, I could have." Dean shrugged. He briefly smiled at Charlie again, but distinctively not at his brother, before turning around and leaving the room.

Sam's eyes were downcast, his shoulders a little slumped.

“Are you feeling okay?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, of course.“ Sam gripped Charlie's shoulder, who quickly looked up from the documentary that was still running. “You should-” Sam nodded at the door. “He’s upset.”

Dean stood in the hall. When he saw Castiel, he walked off into the direction of his room. Once they were both inside, Dean threw the door shut, sat on his bed and narrowed his eyes at Castiel.

Castiel reached for Dean's forehead.

"Wait." Dean jerked back.

"Dean, you're hurt," Castiel said matter-of-factly. “Let me heal you.”

"I know damn well that I'm hurt." He gave him an icy look. Castiel wasn't aware of having done anything wrong. "What did Sam mean? What is it I would be against? What is your decision?”

Castiel tried to understand. "Why are you upset?"

"Damn it, Cas! It's always the same kind of crap! Over and over! I'm out trying to save the damn world and you're all in here playing at being a happy family." Dean breathed heavily. "Don't you get what that feels like?"

"We're not playing. We are her fathers and Charlie is our child."

Dean let air slowly escape between his compressed lips. "Shit, Cas..."

It sounded like he was almost about to cry. But Dean wasn't crying.

Castiel sat down next to him, put his hand on Dean's neck and ran his fingers over the warm skin. He knew that this touch had calmed him down many times before.

"What did he mean?" Dean asked, exhausted. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Sam think we should maybe send Charlie to kindergarten, despite your concerns. He thinks it would be better for her to be among peers."

Dean exhaled sharply again. "That's what you were talking about?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

Dean made his face disappear in his hands. He took a deep breath. “Sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For my paranoia."

"You don't have to apologize." He was still running his fingers over Dean's skin. "May I heal you now?"

"Yeah. Sure.“

Afterwards Castiel pulled his hand away from him. "You should talk to your brother. Your opinion is very important to him."

Dean snorted. “Maybe later. Right now I just- " He didn't finish his sentence. He cocked his head and watched Castiel for a long time.

"Cas." Dean put his hands on Castiel's shoulder. “I know that sometimes when it comes to you, I get a little-”

“It's okay, Dean.”

Dean tasted of beer and desire. The way he often did when he felt the need to push his own thoughts far away. He pressed his forehead against Castiel's, repeating his name once more. "I love you,” he said, hoarsely, like it was difficult for him to say and as if he hadn't spoken those words before.

Dean pulled his face a little away from him and blinked at him expectantly.

"I love you too," Castiel said.

It was true; he did love Dean. He had loved him for a long time.

Dean was practiced in the art of undressing both of them. He did it swiftly. Naked, he pushed Castiel into the mattress, who understood that this was less about sexual release than a kind of ritual that soothed Dean's mental state. Reconciled him.

Dean's hands felt good on his body; they always did. He was skilled, too, in the art of making love. He knew where Castiel liked to be touched, and how he preferred to be handled.

And yet-

He had left and fought all of heaven. He had given up everything. Just for this?

The thought was tinted with guilt. It wasn’t fair or just, how limiting he found this. It had nothing to do with Dean himself. He found nothing lacking in Dean. It was just that now, unlike before, he knew there were things he wanted beyond Dean. Things that mattered even more.


	5. Year 5

Rrr-rrr-rrr.

The ringing almost drove him crazy. Especially since he couldn't even remember where he’d left his phone; it wasn't on the nightstand. He looked at the bed and under his clothes, which he had carelessly thrown onto the mattress, when —like some teenage girl— he’d tried on most things in his wardrobe.

_"Can I go outside like this?"_

Not that it mattered. He hadn't exactly been invited to a fancy dinner party. In fact, he hadn't really been invited anywhere. He'd only felt that he had to spend his first child-free evening since, well, since forever, outside and not scooped inside the bunker.

"Is this a new aftershave? I like it." Dean had caught him on the way back from the bathroom to his room. "Go get ‘em, tiger. I mean, seriously, Sammy, when was the last time you scored?"

In that moment, Castiel walked around the corner with Charlie by his side, carrying her unicorn bag. Dean's and Sam's eyes were fixed on the child.

"She wanted to say goodbye once more." Her hand grasped Castiel's tightly, but as soon as he let it go, she came running towards Sam.

"She'll be gone for less than a day." Dean shook his head. Something in his voice had changed.

"Did you remember to pack everything? You got a fresh pair of socks and underpants?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Dad."

She pressed her chocolate cream smeared face into his clean shirt. She seemed to eat nothing but chocolate cream on toasted bread nowadays. Once he had tried to take the glass away from her after the first piece of toast. “We’re going put something healthy on the next one, alright?”

But Dean had interfered. "Really, Sam? When you were a kid you ate nothing but sugary cornflakes. I wouldn’t have dreamt of taking them away from you.“

Before he could react, Dean had taken the glass and placed it back in front of Charlie's plate.

"There you go, sweetie. Don't let my little brother get to you."

He had planned to talk to Dean about it as soon as they were alone. He wanted to tell him not to interfere like that. But the way Charlie beamed had stopped Sam. It would only lead to another argument with Dean anyway. This wasn't a hill worth dying on. Chocolate cream wasn't that bad after all. Besides, having a child with his brother's partner brought a life debt that couldn't ever be weighed against Nutella.

"Do you have Monkey with you? You know you have trouble falling asleep without him."

She nodded again. "And a couple of books. If I should get bored."

"I don't think you will get bored with Garth and his family," laughed Dean. "Say hello to the old stinker from me." He tickled her and she giggled. "Enjoy the time away from annoying grownups."

"Lila’s mom and dad are grownups too."

"Then enjoy your time away from _your_ annoying grownups."

She embraced Dean briefly and then ran back to Sam to hug him as hard as possible.

"Come on." He placed a kiss onto her hair, right next to a clip holding a dark strand in place. "We don't want to keep Daddy Cas busy forever. Who knows what kind of plans he's got for later tonight?"

When Sam raised his eyes, he noticed the slight smile around the corner of Castiel's mouth. He had been quietly watching the scene.

"Probably read books," Charlie ventured.

She also looked up at Sam.

"You’d think so, but do you want to know what Cas is really doing when we're not around?" Sam bent down and conspiratorially whispered into her ear: "He's dancing tango with uncle Dean."

She didn't laugh. There was something almost horrified in her eyes. “Really?”

At the age of 5, his daughter was already able to read entire books by herself, and after she had completed her space phase, she worked her way systematically through the various eras of earth's history. In her dinosaur phase, Sam had barely been able to keep Dean from watching Jurassic Park with her. She was gifted and unnervingly smart, but she had not yet developed a concept for irony and sarcasm. He kissed her again —"Let's go."— and wondered if that would change or if that was just part of her angelic heritage. He gazed at Castiel, who took her hand again and nodded towards him and Dean. Castiel still had trouble understanding irony after all this time.

"She is so lucky that she can take the angel express without getting sick."

Sam had almost forgotten about Dean. He shrugged. "She's an angel. Of course she doesn't get sick. "

"Yes, sure, I just meant-"

It was so strangely quiet in the bunker without Castiel and Charlie. As if something was missing.

"So, what are you gonna do tonight?" Dean asked.

"I think I'll go to the cinema."

"On your own?" Dean laughed and shook his head at the same time.

When Garth offered that Charlie could stay with him and his family overnight, Sam felt overwhelmed by all the possibilities that opened up to him. The museum, eating out, reading books —there were so many things to do when you didn't have a child to take care of. Reality hit a little later.

"Yeah, there’s this French biopic about an author who lived in the 18th century in-"

"God, how boring!“ Dean interrupted him. "Nobody wants to see stuff like that except for you."

But there’d been someone else. Sam recalled how he had stood next to Castiel and Charlie in the small natural history museum in Osborne and told him about the movie. Charlie was running around excitedly like a puppy between the skeletons and stuffed animals.

"Look, a diplodocus! Did you know that they loved to eat aquatic plants?"

"That sounds really interesting." At first, Sam had assumed that Castiel was talking to Charlie, but his eyes had still been on Sam's face. "I would like to watch that movie too."

And for a brief moment, the offer to join him had been on Sam’s lips.

"Come on! There are more dinosaurs back here!”

No. There was a simple rule on which everything depended. Cas, Sam and Charlie together were okay. But as soon as she was missing from the equation, they moved on forbidden ground. He was not allowed to invite his brother's partner to the cinema. Full stop.

"We could also watch another film,” Sam told Dean. "If you want to join me. We could buy a bucket of popcorn and some of that horrible licorice you like.“

He didn't ask Dean because he felt guilty. He really loved his brother.

"That sounds nice and all, but I already have other plans." Dean's grin was so crooked that Sam had to return the smile. “And you should use your freedom better than sitting in a musty cinema on your own. You never get to meet anyone like that. Here." He put something crackling, wrapped in plastic, into Sam's shirt pocket "Just in case."

“What is that?"

"See, I figured you wouldn't recognize it." He was still grinning. "It's called a condom and you should use it or-" Although he was smiling, something had changed in his eyes. Had become more serious "-let someone else use it."

* * *

There had been so many things Sam had wanted to do once he’d have some time for his own. But now that he was alone in his room, it all seemed hollow and superfluous.

He had laid down on his bed, tried to read, and then, after a few pages, put the book aside. He had tried to sleep, but that hadn't worked either, so he’d turned on the TV and let it play without being able to focus.

At some point, he heard Castiel returning home. What had kept him for so long, Charlie or Garth? Sam pictured him sitting on the sofa with the Fitzgerald family and drinking coffee while Garth and Beth’s three children walked over chairs and benches. He smiled. Then he heard Dean laughing in the hallway and his smile died.

Should he really change and go out again, as Dean had suggested? He got up and took the few steps towards the closet. Item after item went from his hand to the bed, where it formed a huge pile. This was silly. Even before Charlie, he hadn't been the type for one night stands in run-down bars. Why should he change that now? No, this role belonged to Dean alone. Or rather, it _had_ belonged to him. For years, his brother had slept his way through the beds of America until the thing with Castiel had happened. From bedding world champion to a quasi marriage, one moment to the next. A complete 180°.

Sam had given the two of them less than two months; Dean's relationship span was usually shorter than the shelf life of yogurt, and Castiel and Dean had little in common. Sam had been wrong.

In the hallway, Dean laughed and Castiel seemed to be replying to something. Their bond was strong. Even Charlie’s birth and all the lies surrounding it hadn't been enough to break them apart.

Sam looked at his reflection in the mirror. He shouldn't be jealous. Not of Dean, who had was always there for him. Who was still supportive of him even now. He knew that it wasn't really about Castiel, or about the sex Dean was having and he wasn't. It was about the feeling of belonging to someone, to someone who wasn't five years old.

Again, Sam shook his head. How likely was it to meet someone in a bar in Lebanon who had no problem with the fact that he was, theoretically at least, a monster hunter, living in a bunker with his brother, and sharing custody with an angel. Oh and the fact that he was, in a way, the child's mother. That one too.

Nobody fit into this life and that was okay. He had Charlie and Dean and Castiel. He forced himself to smile. Everything was okay as it was. In a way, he was happy.

Rrr-rrr-rrr.

Then the phone rang. He finally found it under a pair of jeans.

"Yes?"

"Daddy!" Her voice sounded so desperate that his heart contracted.

"What's wrong, Charlie?"

She was sobbing. "I want to go home."

* * *

"Cas?"

It was uncomfortable to burst in on them like that. Dean was holding Castiel tight and it seemed like they were about to leave the bunker. Both pairs of eyes rose.

"I'm really sorry, but Charlie needs to be picked up again."

"Is she not well?" Castiel worriedly took a step towards him. Dean's face remained strangely tense.

"Yes, she’s probably just homesick. Apparently she got into a big fight with Lila." He shrugged. "You know how children are."

Castiel probably didn't know, but he nodded anyway. "It's no problem. Of course I'll pick her up."

Rrr-rrr-rrr.

His pocket vibrated again.

He picked up and went around the next corner to take the call.

"Has she calmed down again and decided she wants to stay after all?" Dean asked when he came back.

Sam shook his head. "That was Garth. He is terribly sorry for all of this and asked if we don't all want to come to eat dinner with them tonight." Sam looked at Dean. "So that we could all spend some time together and the trip wasn't completely in vain."

Dean shrugged. "I don't care. I mean, the evening is already ruined anyway. We might as well have dinner with werewolves at this point." He took a deep breath. "But I'm taking the car and not the angel express."

-

"She's only five, Dean. I know you looked after me on your own for days when you were her age but... " He sighed. "You shouldn't be angry with her."

After the darkness of the country road, the light from the street lamps that shone on the small town was almost blindingly bright.

"You think I'm mad at her?"

"Well, you haven't spoken a word to me in over an hour."

"So what?" He now turned directly to Sam. "Maybe I'm in a bad mood because I was looking forward to the evening. Doesn't mean you have to constantly question my love for her." He shook his head. "And do you really think I would say: 'Hey, my dad left me alone with my baby brother for weeks at that age and look at me! I turned out just fine! So why don't you treat your daughter a little bit worse? You should give her the feeling that you don't give a shit. That will make her strong for her life.'"

"I’m sorry."

"I was the one who said that she shouldn't go to shitty kindergarten and wasn't I right?"

"First of all, we decided against it because we couldn't give them the address of the bunker and we can hardly transfer the school money with our fake credit cards."

"She was crying."

"Most children cry when they are without their parents for the first time."

Dean shook his head and accelerated the car. "She wanted to be with us. Where she belongs."

"She can't do that forever. That-" He stopped mid-sentence and pointed through the window. “I think we have to take that one. Garth's house is up there.”

* * *

"How nice to see you again!" Beth hugged them both, a spatula in hand. "I tried my luck with a pasta bake," she explained. "If you have children, the first thing you learn is that you should always have pasta in the house. Come on in." She pointed to the hallway. "Castiel is already here, he's with Garth in the living room."

"And Charlie?" Sam asked while hanging up his jacket.

"She's in Lila's room." She shook her head. "As a mother, and werewolf, I’m allowed to say that my daughter can be a real beast sometimes. I wouldn't always want to play with her, either. ”

Dean laughed. "I can't imagine her being this bad, considering her parents. What did the girls fight about? "

"It was initially about Barbie's shoes and then about who gets to marry Ken." She gestured for them to follow her. "I think I actually raised my daughter fairly modern, but we only have two ken dolls, so it was clear to her that both Winter Barbie and Rapunzel would be against the idea of the two of them dating."

Dean laughed again. "I know that problem. I still get calls from disappointed women. "

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, and then the typical 'My father is much stronger than yours' insults continued until they starting fighting about their own strength.“ By now they had reached the living room. Cas nodded to them as Garth stood up and greeted Dean with a firm hug.

"It's good to see you."

"Yes, it's been far too long. You look good."

"No, I don't." Garth laughed. "This baby seems to come straight from hell and gets by on an hour of sleep." He pointed to his eyes. "You're lucky you don't have children." Before Dean could answer, Garth turned to his wife. "Oh, were you just telling him about the 'Then I’ll turn you into a werewolf and bite you and bleed you dry' outburst from your daughter?" He kissed her.

"Didn't we agree that if she's behaving like this, she's your daughter?"

Patrick, the eldest son, appeared in the door. "Dean!” He beamed until he noticed his parents. "Urgh, kissing." Then he was gone again as suddenly as he’d come.

"And Charlie, what did she say?” Sam asked.

Suddenly the silly mood between Garth and Beth changed. They both looked down at the floor. "Well, she was a little confused."

"You know how children are. You really shouldn't read too much into it."

"Why, what did she say?"

"She said she's so powerful that if Lila were to bite her, she'd just destroy the earth. Then she asked to call you." Beth laughed again. "She was really confused. We know how friendly and kind she usually is. Maybe next time you should bring her around a little earlier. Kids are often a little cranky in the evening."

"Earlier?" Sam asked. "But Castiel already left when-"

The door opened, and Charlie flung herself into his arms.

Sam considered his daughter. "I'm really happy to see you, too, but why are you telling Lila these kinds of stories? Where did you get that from?"

He noticed how her eyes quickly scurried to Castiel and then to the ground. Neither of them were very good at hiding anything. An unsettling feeling flared up in Sam. "What's going on, honey?" he tried to ask as calmly as possible.

"I was angry and sad because nobody likes me," she finally whispered.

"You know that's not true. We all love you and you just got into a little fight with Lila. That's no big deal." Sam pulled her close. "Who do you think doesn't like you?"

She said nothing but stared at the floor.

"Did Patrick say anything to you?"

"No." She pushed her lower lip forward. Then the tears came. “The angel we visited doesn't like me. All angels don't like me. "

"I can explain," Castiel started, but Sam had already pounced on him like a cat. So fast that it made even Dean wince.

"Where did you take her?! If you take her away from me, if you take her to heaven —I swear, Cas, I'm going to kill you!"

"Sam, I promise we weren't in heaven." With one hand he made a half-hearted attempt to ward Sam off. "Please, Sam, just listen to me."

"You lied to me! You said you'd just take her to Beth and Garth. I trusted you!"

Lila and her brother had also appeared in the door frame. They had probably been attracted by the shouting.

"Okay," said Garth, "let's all go into the garden. Let's just kick the ball around for a bit. You too, Charlie."

"No."

"Yes, you too," Beth said with a stern look. She had taken the baby out of the bassinet and carried the child in her arms. Charlie pouted but followed her outside.

"I hate soccer," Patrick complained, then the door was closed.

"Inias is an old friend of mine," Castiel started again. “We served in the same garrison.”

"You know you can't trust angels." It was Dean who spoke and stood protectively next to his brother. "What if it had been a trap? What if they had tried-"

He left the rest of the sentence unspoken.

"He's a friend," Castiel repeated with more emphasis, "Besides, I would never have let anything happen to her."

"Thanks for your support, Dean, but this is something that Castiel and I have to sort out on our own." Sam's voice had become dangerously calm.

"Okay, great, then I guess I'm going to 'kick the ball around' too."

Maybe the wind banged the door shut with such force, or maybe it was Dean's anger, but Sam didn’t have any capacity to care about that right now.

"How could you have guaranteed her safety? Would you have just flicked him aside if he had gotten his angel sword out, or what? ” Sam clenched his fist and circled Castiel.

"I understand your concerns - that's why we met in a place where weapons are not allowed."

"Which is where?"

"In Plutos' auction house."

“Oh great!" Sam turned around his own axis and grabbed a fistful of his own hair in desperation. "You took our daughter to a Greek God who loves to sell souls and virgins, just so you could meet some angel?!"

"She is interested in deities and she wanted to see Thor's hammer."

"Shit, Cas! I let you and Dean persuade me not to send her to kindergarten because you said it'd be too dangerous and then you go and drag her into a room full of monsters!"

"Angels are not monsters."

"I'm not going to have a debate on principles with you on that now." Sam paced restlessly. "The fact remains that every goddamn angel in heaven would kill our daughter given the chance." He took a deep breath. "Didn't you kill several nephilims yourself during your active time?"

"Only one, the other turned out to be a human child."

“Oh wow, that’s really reassuring to hear!“

"Sam." Once again Castiel tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Sam brushed it off. "Yes, you're right about most angels' attitudes towards nephilims. We were taught to consider a nephilim as an unnatural creature that poses a great danger. ”

"Yeah, five-year-old girls fighting over barbie shoes really got people shaking in their boots.“

Castiel shook his head. “A nephilim is always stronger than the angel who created it. Charlie's powers are comparable to those of an archangel.”

"But you said- Besides, her grace is-"

Castiel didn't let him finish. "In addition, quite a few angels assume that I have a long-standing plan to attack heaven, and a group of nephilims would be an effective weapon.”

"They think you created her on purpose to..." Sam was struggling for the right words. "... And that you could produce more?" He shook his head "That's nuts!"

"Inias had to see her." Castiel looked down at the floor. "He had to understand her true nature." He paused. “So many of my brothers and sisters have died. We are an endangered species.” He shook his head. "If you only understood the good our daughter could do in heaven."

"They died because they killed each other and because they kill everything that doesn't think and feel exactly like they do." Sam snorted. "I don’t feel sorry for them." Then he sat down in the chair before looking up at Castiel again. "You should never have taken her there. Now they know about her."

"They already knew beforehand." Castiel cleared his throat. "She can hear angel radio."

"What, but-”

A knock interrupted Sam's troubled thoughts. When the door opened a crack he looked into Dean's face.

"Are you done with your 'marital feud' yet?" Sam hated the way his brother pronounced the word. "The kids are hungry and tired, the food's long gone cold and the Fitzgerald's would like to have their living room back."

"Yes." Sam wiped over his brow. "Yes, of course."

* * *

"It is not my place to meddle.“ Beth took the plate that Sam had cleaned and rubbed it dry with the towel. "But don't be too angry with Castiel."

"It’s difficult, knowing how much danger he put Charlie in." The grip on the plate he was rinsing became as firm as if he wanted to break it.

"You know, we regularly invite hunters over.“ She smiled. "You, Jodie Mills, and a few others. We let you into our home, even though we know you could shoot us with a few silver bullets at any time."

She had to stand on her toes and stretch to place the dried plates in one of the cupboards.

"But if you can see how we really are, and if you tell other people how we really are." She shrugged. "The world doesn't change in one day and heaven probably doesn't either, but who knows? Maybe one day?"

"I don't know." Sam tried to mirror her soft smile. "Maybe you're right.”

"I understand why you’re angry," she said, wiping her hands on her dress. “Just, maybe, try to see it from his perspective, too. He has no family but the two of you now."

* * *

The way back to the bunker was tense. Sam and Dean were sitting upfront, Charlie and Castiel in the back. No one had so much as suggested that the two of them wouldn't be driving in the car with them this time.

It was pretty clear that Charlie knew that she somehow was the cause of the tension between all of them, but she didn't seem to know who she should feel sorry towards. Castiel for telling, or Sam for not telling earlier.

After half an hour of fretful twitching and asking many inane questions to assure that no one was angry with her she fell asleep, her head in Castiel's lap. Sam was glad for the necessary silence that followed. He put his head against the window and he, too, closed his eyes.

* * *

It was in the middle of the night when a soft rapping on the door woke Sam up. He hurried out of bed, assuming to see Charlie's tired face behind the door. Instead he was greeted by Castiel who looked a little lost standing in the middle of the hallway, glancing up at him rather timidly.

Sam briefly considered whether talking out here was prudent, but decided that even if they woke someone up now, this was a better picture than having Castiel inside his own room in the middle of the night.

"What is it?" Sam asked in a hushed voice. It came out angrier than he'd meant it.

"I wanted to apologize," Castiel said. "Our earlier conversation was interrupted before I could adequately explain myself."

Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was a draft coming in from the hallway, his naked legs were starting to get goosebumps. "You don't think that talking can wait until tomorrow morning?"

Castiel looked around himself. Dean's room was further down the hall, but Sam understood the gesture anyway. He didn't want to have this conversation with Dean present either. But sneaking around like this was a bad idea too.

"You really fucked up today, Cas," Sam whispered.

"I know."

"She could have died."

"I know, Sam."

Castiel looked at him with pleading eyes.

Sam sighed, softly, then he stepped aside and gestured into the room.


	6. Year 6

Dean reached next to him before he’d even so much as opened his eyes. There was nothing but a crumpled blanket beside him.

It was not unusual for him to wake up alone in bed. He got it. It had to be boring for Castiel to just lie awake next to him with nothing to do; he wouldn't have expected him to stay all night. Still, Dean appreciated seeing his face first thing in the morning. Waking up alone always left him feeling a little hollow.

He pushed himself out of bed. He had to take a leak. Once in the bathroom, he decided to take a shower as well. He took off his boxers and threw them in the laundry basket. He stood under the nozzle for a long while, trying to brace himself for a day that had already started off badly.

When he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his skin crimson and raw from the hot water, he heard voices coming from the kitchen.

It wasn't that unusual to hear Sam and Castiel arguing - he’d probably never get used to how much closer the two of them had grown over the last years. Even the way they fought seemed so much more personal and intimate now.

It should have calmed him to hear Charlie's voice thrown into the mix. Instead, it stung too. If that had been all, the three of them talking, Dean would have just gone back to his room carrying an uneasy feeling and a frown with him. He would have tried to take his time getting dressed to extend the grace period before he’d have to face the others.

What made him pause in the middle of the hallway was the fact that he didn't understand a single word of what was being said.

He knew that Castiel spoke Enochian with Charlie when they were alone. A few times Charlie had tried talking it with Dean too, but she had quickly gotten around to the fact that not only did Dean not understand her, but he also grew irritated by her attempts. So when Dean was around, Castiel only ever spoke English with her.

Dean shuffled towards the kitchen, the towel around his middle inhibiting his speed.

No, he hadn't misheard. It was Sam’s voice –and unless his brother had gone insane and was talking some made-up mumbo jumbo, he was speaking Enochian.

They didn't notice him when he stopped to watch in the doorway, but that wasn't surprising, considering how angrily Sam and Castiel were staring at each other, caught in their own little world.

Sam leant against the fridge, a glass of water in his hand, while Castiel and Charlie were sitting at the kitchen table.

Sam shook his head and said something in a deep, almost menacing voice, that made Charlie jump up. She spoke rapidly, and repeated the same few sounds over and over, before she ran to Sam and took him by the hand.

She had grown so much in the last year but next to Sam she still looked tiny and frail, easily broken.

He heard the same wording again, this time like a question.

Sam let her pull him over to Castiel with an unhappy expression on his face. She now reached for Cas's hand.

"Pah deh rah?"

"Pah deh rah," Castiel replied. He turned to Sam and said something that sounded conciliatory. Sam nodded. For a moment it looked like the two of them were about to embrace, but then Sam simply turned toward the door. He stared at him in surprise: "Dean." The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Sam."

"Good morning."

"Good morning." He eyed Sam's startled expression for a moment, then pushed past him to Castiel. He leaned down towards him, framed his face with his hands and pressed his lips firmly to Castiel’s.

Charlie giggled.

Castiel looked at him in surprise and when Dean glanced at Sam he wasn't sure what he was seeing on his face. Irritation, jealousy or maybe just the exhaustion that had nestled there permanently.

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel said.

"Morning."

He sat down at the table and tightened the towel around his waist. "Seems like I missed a quite heated morning discussion."

"It’s nothing," Sam said far too quickly, and settled on the other side of the table.

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at Castiel.

"It was about Charlie's grace," he explained.

"What about it?" He looked at Charlie, who was now walking towards the fridge.

"Your brother is satisfied with the situation as is."

"'The situation'?" He hated it when Castiel talked like this.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and came to stand next to Castiel. He leaned across the table towards Dean. "He thinks it's a good idea to let Charlie decide if she wants to unseal her grace or not. Because everyone knows that a 6 year old knows best."

"I never said she should be making this decision right now."

"Then why even bring it up?“

"Because it's important that she starts to think about these things —what it is she wants in life. She needs to contemplate who and what she is."

"She’s six!"

Castiel shrugged. "That doesn't hold much meaning to an angel." He cocked his head slightly to one side and turned to face Sam. "She isn't like you or Dean were when you were kids."

"I know." Sam inhaled sharply. “Believe me, I know."

"If you think it's better that we wait to talk to her about such matters, then I respect your opinion. We have agreed to only make this kind of decisions in unison and I would not do anything to jeopardize this consensus we have reached. You know that."

Sam looked at Charlie, who was standing in front of the fridge, licking chocolate paste from the glass with her fingers. Dean knew how emotionally occupied his brother had to be in order not to intervene.

"I know she's not like other girls," Sam murmured. " _Obviously_ , I know that. But she's still so young, Cas. She shouldn't make these big decisions until she really knows what that means for her.“

Castiel nodded. "I agree with you. I don't think our opinions really diverge on this matter. It seems to me that our argument was a pure overreaction that arose from the sensitivity of the topic."

Dean felt that even though he was the one who had asked the question in the first place, they’d both forgotten about him. "Have you all had breakfast yet?" he asked.

"Yes." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Charlie woke us up at, what? Six? She chased me out of bed and then she desperately wanted to play with Cas." He gave Castiel an apologetic look before turning to Charlie. He took the glass from her hand and screwed it shut. "Man, look at you, you’re completely covered in chocolate. Look at your hands! And your sweater! Jesus." He put the glass back in the fridge and caught Dean's eye. His voice changed. "Or did you want any?"

Dean waved him away.

"Come on," Sam said to Charlie. "We're going to clean you up, and I think you need a new shirt too."

Castiel watched them leave. "Cas," Dean cleared his throat. "What does Pah deh rah mean?” Castiel frowned, then understanding dawned on his face. “Oh, _Paid Ra_? It means ‘forever and ever’. It is not an exact translation. You say it when, well- it’s hard to explain."

The look he gave Dean made it clear that he wasn't going to try to explain.

"Why did Charlie keep saying that? What has that got to do with her grace?“

Castiel answered, surprisingly animated. "It's her way of saying that we shouldn't argue. I’m not entirely sure how it came about, to be honest. She is very creative expressing herself in any language.“

Dean nodded several times, ran a flat hand over his neck and leaned back in the chair.

"I didn't know you all spoke Enochian with each other." He wet his lips. "To be honest, I didn't even know Sam was fluent."

"He rarely speaks it, but Charlie can be very persistent, so he’s coming around slowly.“

"Did you teach him? The way you taught Charlie?"

Castiel looked at him as if Dean had asked a completely absurd question. "No." He cocked his head slightly to one side. "Your brother speaks perfect Enochian. Did you not know this?"

It was still impossible for him to accept that there were things Castiel knew about his brother that were completely foreign to him.

"I mean, I know he's better at translating Sigils than me, but I just thought— "

He didn't exactly know what he'd been thinking. He felt quite stupid all of a sudden. What else was there he did not know about Sam. He’d always thought his brother was straight too, and look how that had turned out.

"I'd prefer if you guys spoke English with each other."

"I didn't notice that you were in the room, otherwise I would have switched to English. We did not mean to exclude you."

"No, no, I didn't mean just not when I'm around. I meant in general."

"Why?"

Dean's naked feet on the kitchen floor were starting to get cold. "Because I don't want Charlie's English to suffer?"

Castiel smiled. "Don’t worry. She already speaks both languages perfectly.”

He’d been with Castiel for so many years and after all this time he still didn’t understand subtle requests. You had to say exactly what you wanted.

"I just don't want you to speak Enochian to him. That’s got to be enough of a reason."

To his surprise, Castiel's face darkened. He stood up. "No, Dean. That is not enough. I can speak with whoever I want, in whatever language I want. If you can give me a good reason why I shouldn’t, I am always ready to reconsider. But I don't obey your every order.”

This gaze with which he now considered him penetrated Dean to the core. Castiel looked the way he had a long time ago: powerful and unyielding. Usually it made Dean feel small, but not today. Now it just annoyed him.

" _Obey_? I just asked you to do me a solid.“ Dean stood up too. "You’re right, you can do whatever you want. Fuck it." Holding the towel around his waist tightly, he went to the door.

"Where are you going?“

"I'm going to get dressed. And then I'm gonna drive to some place where they serve a proper breakfast."

He wanted Castiel to stop him. But he just nodded, a stoic expression on his face.

In his room, Dean grew even angrier. He pulled his jeans over his hips, biting his lip.

He should have known better than to ask for a favor. He could drive himself crazy thinking about Castiel in situations like this. He just didn’t get how much his indifference hurt. At least Dean hoped that he didn’t understand, as the alternative —him just not caring enough— was worse.

Back when he’d fallen for Castiel, Dean had tried to suppress his feelings for good reason. But there had been all these near-end-of-world moments that prompted emotional confessions, and one thing had led to another and now here he was, exactly where’d never wanted to be, caught in a frustrating relationship he couldn’t quit

It made him feel unfamiliarly helpless, knowing how much power Castiel yielded over him. He loved him with every fiber of his being, and that was why there was no one who could hurt him as much as he could. Well, almost no one.

He threw open the door and ran into Charlie. He took her by the shoulders to soften the impact. "Sorry, honey."

He looked up and saw Sam behind her, closing Charlie's room door.

"Oh," said Sam, looking him up and down. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I wanted to get breakfast. Maybe get some shopping done, while I’m out anyway.”

"I also meant to get some shopping done today. Maybe we could go together."

Dean looked from Sam down at Charlie who hadn’t moved away from him. "I just wanted to-"

“Charlie can stay with Cas, right?” Sam asked his daughter, a pleading tone to his voice. "He said he’d take over your lessons today."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to study. It's all so boring!"

"What?" Sam looked so comically shocked, that Dean couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping. "You don’t think studying is boring.“

“But these books are all so slow! They tell you something once and then they repeat the whole thing again for 100 pages!"

"I told you we were trying to get you better textbooks. It's just that you need to know the boring bits too, so can take the exams." He put a hand to her back, coaxing her out of Dean’s hands. "Come on, Cas is probably already waiting for you."

She slouched away, mumbling another complaint.

"So?" Sam looked at Dean with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can I come with you?"

Dean shrugged. "If you really want to."

As they settled in the car, Sam rubbed his forehead nervously, in a way he sometimes did when he wanted to initiate a conversation but didn’t want to be the one to start. He continued his forehead-rubbing once they were driving down the street into town.

“What's wrong?” Dean asked.

“Nothing it’s just-” He lowered his hand, let it rest on his thigh now that it was no longer needed. “I’m still thinking about what Charlie said. I wish we wouldn't need to homeschool her. I mean, even you and I went to a real school. Not exactly regularly and we didn't really stay in the same place for a long time, but still."

Dean shrugged, as he accelerated the Impala. His craving for both pancakes and bacon wanted to be satisfied. "I thought that was off the table since the whole kindergarten debacle.”

"School is different. It's not just that she has almost no friends —and the fact that she rarely gets to see the friends she does have. I also just don't feel like me and Cas are adequate teachers. We don’t know everything she needs to be taught. We’re not stupid, but I can only read so many pedagogical and methodology books. Sure, I wanna teach her everything there is, but I’m primarily her father, you know?“

"Actually, you're more like her mother."

He waited for Sam to roll his eyes, but he just pressed his lips into a thin line.

A strange thought occurred to Dean then. He was surprised that he had never thought to ask it before. “By the way, what _does_ it say on her birth certificate?"

"What?"'

"What's on her birth certificate?" Dean repeated. "When you reported her, back when we decided it was safer, so we wouldn't all eventually be charged with kidnapping. I doubt you told them you gave birth to her."

"No, of course not."

"So?"

"What do you think? I told them I was her father. I said her mother ran away. That I didn't know her name."

"And they believed that?" Dean asked, not trying to hide his doubt.

'Why not? I said she'd handed Charlie over to me and then took off."

"And Cas?"

"What about him?"

"Is his name on the birth certificate?"

"No, of course not." Sam raised her arms in confusion. "What's up with all the questions? How did you get from sending her to school to his?“

"So he's not officially her father?"

Sam let out a sharp breath and turned his head away.

"Sam?"

"Yes. He is. He adopted her."

Dean licked his lips nervously. He knew he hadn't misheard, and yet: "Say that again."

"He adopted her."

"When?"

“A couple years ago.“

"And you never thought of telling me? How is that supposed to work? He's not even legally a person. He doesn't even have an ID!"

Adoption wasn’t something you did in a day. There was a whole process to it. They’d spent a lot of time and thought into this without ever telling him.

“Well, yeah, I guess technically Jimmy Novak adopted her."

“That's not the point."

"I just didn't think..." Sam sounded so meek it made Dean even angrier.

"You didn't think what? That I would care?"

"No, I did think you’d care. I thought you would react like you are right now.“

“And how am I reacting?“

Sam sighed. “It’s really not that big of a deal. That’s why I never told you. I just thought you might read something into it. It was just important to Cas —and it was more of a practical thing. In case anything happens.”

"Like what?" Dean stared at him blankly. Eventually, he had to tear his eyes away from his brother's guilt-ridden face to focus on the street again.

“What if I die and he needs proof that he’s her father?“ Sam ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head at himself. “Well, if I was dead, then Cas would probably go to heaven with her anyway, if they let him. He certainly doesn't need proof of parenthood there."

They had reached the pancake house. Dean parked the car. They got out.

Just outside the door, Dean stopped and turned to his brother, his voice low and even, his hand almost on Sam’s chest. "You think Cas would leave me when you die?"

"What? No! Of course not."

Sam straightened the collar of his plaid shirt. It had seen better days and was almost falling apart at the seams. Sam hadn’t really cared that much about his appearance before, but parenthood definitely hadn’t improved his wardrobe.

"Then what? I’m definitely not going to heaven with him, so how’s that gonna work out?“

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Sam looked at him in despair, but he said nothing more. It was exactly how he'd meant it.

"Forget it. I'm hungry."

Inside the pancake house, it was just like it always used to be between them.

At least insofar as Dean was sitting in front of a pile of food that would have lasted a whole football team and Sam had a single cup of coffee in front of him, which he kept pushing from his left to his right.

“I really didn't mean to imply that Cas would go to heaven without you. I just- "

"You just didn't think about where I’d be in your little scenario.

"It’s just —she talks about heaven all the time, you know? And he keeps telling her about it. And me, I-" Sam pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. He looked crestfallen. It stirred something in Dean; the old automatic response to seeing his brother in pain was wanting to protect him fought with the anger he still felt.

"You should get a haircut.“

Sam looked up at him, surprised by the change of subject. He tried out a smile.

"I thought about it, it’d be more practical but they -” He stopped. Like he'd slipped. “I mean, I mentioned cutting it off once, and Charlie had a near fit."

Dean narrowed his eyes. “So Cas prefers your hair long, huh?”

"Dean-" Sam turned the cup of coffee between his hands. His voice was very quiet now. "Please let's not do this. Let’s not keep having the same conversations over and over.“

Dean shrugged in question.

"These kinds of conversations, where you put words in my mouth so you can get upset."

"You think that's what's going on here?" Dean put his fork aside.

"Not just here, not just now." Sam cocked his head in a gesture that wasn't his, and that reminded Dean painfully of Castiel. "I've tried everything, Dean, but- Be honest: is there anything I can do to ever make you really forgive me?”

Dean thought about it. He wanted to say that he had forgiven him long ago. In a way it was true, he had forgiven him for sleeping with Castiel and even for lying about it for so long. This wasn't about what happened many years ago. It was about the here and now, about the fact that Dean hated what had become of his life, what had become of himself.

He pictured Castiel with Charlie in his arms, saw him running a hand through Sam's hair and asking him not to cut it.

"Nope," Dean said finally. "I don’t think so."

Sam's eyes had rarely looked so sad.

"But let me know when you think I’m doing that,“ Dean went on. “Put words in your mouth, I mean. I'm not interested in doing that either. ”

Sam moved his body forward as much as the table between them permitted. "Tell me what I can do to make it better.“

 _It's not about you,_ Dean thought. _It's about Castiel and the way he looks at you and talks about you. About how he didn't want you to leave us even more than I did. About the fact that he chose you over me in almost all areas that really matter._

"Forget it, Sammy. It’s fine. So I can’t ever fully forgive you? So what. Hardly the first time.”

He started eating again. The pancakes were only lukewarm now.

"Dean, I-"

"I told you to forget it, okay?"

"Okay."

He ate in silence. Sam finished his coffee.

On the way to the supermarket, Sam asked him about his last case and wanted to know all the details. It was easier to talk about things like that. The conversation flowed almost naturally, although Dean's thoughts weren’t fully there.

When they had parked the car in the basement of the bunker in the afternoon and Sam went to get the paper bags from the back seat, in another instance of self-destruction Dean asked: "When did you learn to speak Enochian?"

Sam's shoulders tightened noticeably. He turned slowly to face him, a shopping bag pressed against his chest. His eyes looked like he'd gone somewhere else.

Dean took a step closer to him. He squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Sammy?"

"Yes?" He shook his head and then looked straight at him. "I had a couple of decades to learn the language."

Dean frowned. The need to protect Sam was stronger now, it was almost all he felt. "What?"'

"In the cage." He huffed out an absurd laugh. “You’d probably call it immersive learning." His mouth twisted into something that should have been a smile. Then he left the basement, shame all over his face, almost running away from him.

Dean reached for the second bag and followed him up to the kitchen. "Sam, listen, I didn't know."

"It's fine." Sam stood in front of the fridge and sorted through groceries. It was clear how much he was trying to appear calm and normal, as he put away a pack of butter —as if he didn't have hell memories running through his head.

“How can you stand listening to Charlie and Cas?” Dean asked.

“It’s not like it always makes me think of him.” Sam closed the fridge door. “I mean, I admit it was a little strange at first. Especially speaking it myself. It did bring up weird things but, I don’t know.” He went to the second bag Dean had put on the table and took out a can of tomatoes. "But I figured: Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it’s a healing opportunity for me, you know? If I get to understand that it’s the language of heaven and not just one angel. It's just-” He paused. "Yeah, it's difficult sometimes." He was smiling defiantly at Dean now. “But it's okay. And it's kind of cool too, you know, to have a bilingual family."

Dean didn't know what to say.

He silently watched Sam stow away the rest of the shopping. Then Sam said, “I’ll go and see how Charlie is doing."

Dean followed him into Charlie's room without being asked to.

He was amazed every time he was in here. It didn't look like the room of one single child, but rather as if ten different people of all ages lived in here. A poster of a teeth-fletching Tyrannosaur Rex hung over the pink doll's corner, and alongside the children's books, there was a stack of non-fiction books Dean wouldn't have picked up if someone had paid him to.

“Hey Dad!” Charlie beamed at Sam as they pushed the door open. She was sitting next to Castiel at her desk. She greeted Dean equally enthusiastically.

"How is it going in here?“ Sam walked up to her chair, put his arm around the back of the chair, kissed her cheek, and then looked at the documents on the desk.

"Cas is teaching me the most important sigils."

"Oh." Sam frowned.

"Don't worry," Castiel smiled up at him, "we've already completed the regular school lesson. This is additional study time." He got up and let Sam take his place beside Charlie, who showed him what she had just learnt.

It was only a millisecond, but Dean saw Castiel's hands graze over both Charlie's and Sam's shoulders before stepping away from them and turning to Dean.

Dean had a lump in his throat.

"Did you have a good breakfast?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah. It was great.“

Castiel cocked his head in question, but before he could ask what was going on, Dean was already out of the room.

Sam was right. He couldn't continue this. He couldn’t go crazy with every exchange he heard, with every touch he saw. He just didn’t know what else to do. How was he supposed to just ignore the undercurrent of attraction that he knew for certain wasn't just in his head.

Dean walked to his own room, vaguely aware of Castiel's presence following him.

Castiel closed the door behind them.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean turned around and studied him for a moment.

"What would you do if Sam died?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed in worry. "Is Sam sick?"

"No! Sam is doing great. It's a hypothetical question.”

“I would be very sad if Sam died. I would try to get him back. But you know that. So I'm not sure if I understand your question."

"Okay, so just imagine he was dead for a second, alright? Permanently dead. There is nothing you can do for him-dead.”

Castiel nodded tentatively.

"Now what are you gonna do?"

"You just said I can't do anything. So I would mourn?”

"What about me?"

"You would also mourn."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!“ Dean turned around and hit the wall with his flat palm. There was no strength behind it. This was pathetic.

Castiel stepped closer. He put his arms around him from behind and leant his head against his back. The gesture seemed equally helpless.

He felt Castiel’s warm breath against his t-shirt. Its regular rhythm contrasted sharply with Dean's own pounding heart. It took him a while until he managed to speak again.

"If Sam had left with Charlie back when she was born-” Castiel was still holding onto him. "Would you have stayed here?"

The seconds that passed felt like an eternity.

"Sam wouldn't have wanted me to follow him," Castiel said. "Of course I would have stayed with you."

Dean slowly turned so that Castiel was forced to let go of him.

"What if he'd wanted you to leave with them?" He forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “Hypothetically.“

"Dean-" Castiel put his hand on his cheek. "You know I love you. You know what I gave up for you.” His eyes weren't sad per se, not like Sam's had been. "Please don't force me to choose between you and my family for a second time."


	7. Year 7

He had lived through so much worse. He'd watched the destruction of entire cities, wars, the beginning of the apocalypse. In comparison, this was nothing: he was sitting in the waiting area of a dance study in the company of other parents waiting for a ballet class to end. There had been few other occasions in his life when forty-five minutes had seemed like such an eternity.

Two mothers talked about a birthday party that they thought had gone horribly wrong. They wouldn’t let their children attend again. Words like "store-bought cake" and "no real entertainment program" were thrown around. He thought of how they had spent Charlie's seventh birthday picnicking in the woods. There had been no guests; it had just been Sam, Dean and himself. The leaves had been a shade of bright green that only existed in the first light days of May, and any fight had seemed endlessly far away. Maybe that's why it was one of his most treasured memories. 

He raised his head and looked through the glass window into the room where the children, primarily females of the species in pink tutus, were performing strange contorted movements with the help of a wooden pole. Charlie seemed to feel his eyes; she looked over at him and smiled. He smiled back and wondered whether she really was the prettiest and most talented child in the room, or whether his sympathies and deep attachment influenced his judgment.

The other girls laughed and shoved each other, barely able to concentrate on two positions before they screeched across the room and had to be told off by the ballet teacher, whose gaunt face reminded him of Death. Charlie never had to be told off. She stood at a great distance from the rest of the group, her eyes fixed at the mirror. She practiced by herself. He knew the fierce look on his daughter's face. It was her "I won’t give up before I get it right” look. She had had it as a baby even, when she had edged herself up to her terry ball. Even if her face had lost all of her baby fat, the facial expression remained the same.

"So, you’re the second Dad?"

It took him a moment to realize that the two women were talking to him now. He nodded as it was true.

"We're used to seeing Charlie with her other father." The woman with the badly bleached hair indicated a certain height. "The tall one with the long hair."

Castiel nodded again and wished that Sam had taken on this task of driving Charlie to her class today as well. Why did these women only ask him questions that they already knew the answer to?

"Are you married?"

"No." He thought of the coaching Sam had given him before they’d attended Charlie's performance last week. _'What do we say to people we don't like but who we will see again and who could potentially be important for Charlie's wellbeing?'_. "We are not married, but we live together."

Both women nodded again. 

"Personally, I was so impressed that Charlie was allowed to dance the main part in the performance after such a short period of time of being in the group. You must be so proud. Even if she’s not your real daughter." She shrugged. "It’s admirable that you’re so committed."

"She ismy real daughter."

He wondered what a fake daughter would look like.

"Yes, of course she is." When she raised her hands, he noticed the long fingernails and he involuntarily wondered how she mastered certain menial tasks, such as opening a can. "I'm not judging."

"Normally it’s the children who have been in the class the longest who get the more important parts." She interrupted the second woman whose face was so interchangeable that it was erased from his memory as soon as he looked elsewhere. "I think it’s important to show children that commitment is rewarded instead of building up further leadership pressure. After all, the children are here to have fun. "

Charlie stretched her leg into the air. Sam had put her long hair up into a bun. Castiel admired her almost flowing movements.

"It is fun for her to be able to do something particularly well."

The woman shook her head again. "Parents shouldn’t project their own wishes and dreams onto their children. They need to be allowed to be just kids."

Castiel wondered what the woman meant —did she really believe Castiel had the desire to be a dancer? The door opened and the children were spat out like a gush of sea water.

"Dad!" Charlie greeted him with a hug. "Did you see how much I’ve improved? I can go from second to third position so much better now."

He was always amazed how easy it was for her to switch back and forth between Enochian and English since Sam had told her that she couldn't use their language when other people were nearby. 

"Your progress is admirable."

He wanted to tell her that she had mastered this sport much better than all the other girls in the room, but Castiel was also capable of learning and Sam had explained to him that such statements caused others parents' resentment.

Charlie followed the other children into the locker room and he watched her go.

"Mr Novak?" This name was so unusual and felt so foreign that the ballet teacher had to repeat it twice before Castiel responded. "Do you have a few spare minutes?"

"Yes, of course."

That was a strange question too. After all, they were all waiting for the children to put on street clothes. Where was he supposed to be going in the meantime? 

"Charlie is really talented, and shows a lot of progress, especially considering that she’s only been with us for such a short amount of time."

"She thinks ballet is interesting, so she practices a lot."

"Yes." A smile ran over her gaunt face. "But I'm a little worried."

"You’re worried because she practices a lot and is making good progress?" 

"No, of course not. It’s rather the way she deals with the other children.” She sighed and her body tension revealed her nervousness. "She's not really a part of the group and it seems like it doesn't even bother her."

Castiel nodded again.

"She told me that she is being homeschooled?"

"Yes, there are few educational concepts that meet her needs."

She nodded.

"I can tell that she’s a gifted child. But it’s still important not to lose sight of the social side of things. It doesn't matter where she’ll end up, at some university or on the big stage, she will always have to find a way to deal with other people.”

\- 

"You look troubled." This time, as she sat in the back seat while streets and fields flew past the window, she was speaking Enochian. Not for the first time Castiel noticed how much it touched him to hear her speak his native language. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." He shrugged. Driving was still an unusual and confining way of traveling to him, even after all these years. "Your ballet teacher wants you to interact more with the other children."

"Why? They are bad role models." Charlie brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. A gesture that almost painfully reminded him of Sam. "They can't dance and they’re not interested in getting better. They disturb the classes." Something in her eyes looked so small that he wanted to stop the car and take her in his arms. "Besides, they don’t like me and they have no interest in being friends with me."

She had slipped ever further forward into the gap between the seats. She was still wearing her hair in a bun so that her thin neck and fair skin stood out. She had grown and the childish features blurred a little more every day. At moments like this, he could clearly see the angel in her and he wondered how anyone could miss it. 

"I understand, but Sam…" He sighed when he thought back on all the innumerable conversations that rarely left him with a good feeling.

_"Charlie should go to a normal school. She needs to be with other children."_

_"You know that she would get terribly bored there. And do you really want to force her to spend her mornings with a group of adolescents?" He touched Sam's arm. "Why do you want to change something? She is happy the way things are."_

_"She’s only happy because she doesn’t know it any other way." Sam shook his head and took a breath. "I just want her to at least know what she's giving up, if she’s going to decide to give up her humanity."_

"Sam would really like you to get along with the other children." He shifted up a gear. "This was his aim when he registered you for the ballet course, not for you to become a professional dancer." He took a turn. "Although you can become one later in life, if that is what you wish to do."

"Can I be both an angel and a dancer?"

She looked at him questioningly.

"I don't think that would be possible." 

Light rain had started, so he operated the wipers.

"Why?"

"Everything has an order in heaven and everyone has a task to fulfill." He considered how to best explain. "There is nothing superfluous there. Nobody does something just for fun. Nobody dances or paints a picture."

"Isn't that terrible?"

He paused again.

"No one in heaven asks that kind of questions, so you don't get a chance to miss these things. You fully devote yourself to your task and that gives you a sense of fulfillment. You feel part of something bigger than yourself. " He swallowed down the feeling of loss. "You feel useful."

"What was your job?" She wore a necklace that Dean had given her for her birthday and as so often when she was distracted, she put it in her mouth. "In heaven, I mean?"

"To watch over people. My garrison was stationed on earth. "

"Did you meet Dad like that?"

"Actually, I met Dean first. My mission was to get him out of hell because he was the true vessel of Archangel Michael. Sam, on the other hand- " He broke off. "Anyway, that is how I met the Winchesters."

"And rebelled against heaven."

"Yes, and rebelled against heaven."

"Do you sometimes regret it?"

Her face showed no judgement, just curiosity.

He shrugged.

"No. I am satisfied with the way things are."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I think you’re still useful, even if you no longer serve heaven." She cocked her head to the side. "You know a lot of things and I learn a lot from you. You also help Uncle Dean do research for his cases, which he uses to save people, and Dad likes you too. He thinks you're very smart. "

Castiel smiled. 

"Did he say that?"

"Not directly, but I know that's what he thinks."

He stroked over her arm before focusing on the traffic again.

"I am very happy that you exist."

Now she smiled. 

He drew his attention back to the street. 

"Dad?" She asked again, after a while.

"Mhm?"

"Why do you love Dean and not Dad?"

"I do love your father too."

He stared straight ahead.

"You know what I mean."

They were already on the narrow path at the end of which the bunker was hidden, when he spoke again.

"We could just tell Sam that you get on well with the other kids." 

"But that would be a lie."

Now she no longer looked like an angel but simply like an unhappy little girl. "Dad says people aren't supposed to lie. It only ever makes things worse."

"Being truthful is important, but it's also important that Sam doesn't worry unnecessarily."

They had passed the entrance to the underground car park. The dim light of the rainy day gave way to the dark.

"I will try to establish a positive contact with the girls in the group in the future."

Castiel parked the car. He let the sound of the engine die and opened the door.

"If we're lucky he won't ask questions, and omitting details is not lying."

She took her pink gym bag from the trunk and ran down the spiral staircase down the bunker.

Her voice shouting "I’m back here again" echoed through the bunker, even when he didn’t see her anymore. 

Castiel shook his head and followed her. 

\- 

He’d hoped that Sam and Dean would get along well in his absence. He knew how much the two meant to each other, how much they needed each other. Unfortunately, reality painted a different image. There were no tangible fights between the brothers. They would have been able to deal with those, if only because it would have reminded them of how intense their relationship was. 

Instead it was like they were slowly drifting further and further away from each other, and a sea of stillness had spread between them. Their roles were mostly clear: It was Sam who took a step in Dean's direction with panic in his eyes and Dean who flinched away. Dean who was constantly looking for new cases because there was always someone to save somewhere in the world. Dean who drank too much when he was at home, who lowered his eyes so often when he saw Castiel, Sam and Charlie together. Who sometimes just walked into his room without a word, turned the music system to full volume and locked out the whole world, including Castiel.

When Castiel reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, he noticed the voices. He recognized Dean and Sam, but there was a third, female voice. He opened the door to the meeting room and analyzed the situation. Sam's gaze, which met his in the middle of the room, was soft and apologetic. Dean's unapproachable and distant, as it so often was lately. His silent companion, the glass of whiskey, was already in his hand. What time was it, five in the afternoon?

It took him a moment to recognize the young woman with the long blonde hair and the hurt in her eyes.

"Claire?" He cocked his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Claire was just in the area," Sam explained diplomatically.

"Is it true that you have a daughter?" She didn't let Sam finish. Her hands were clenched into fists. "A new one, I mean. One you take to ballet classes? "

"Claire-"

"What? It's not what it looks like?" She started rummaging angrily through her backpack. "I mean, that's what I first figured too. Because the Jimmy Novak I knew —my father— got overtaken by some crazy angel and he certainly wouldn't be interested in any children's ballet performances in some damn small town!" She threw a printout of a newspaper article on the table. He knew the photo. Sam had cut it out and pinned it to the fridge. A beaming girl in a fairy costume and her proud father. "That's you, isn’t it?" Her lips formed a narrow line. "I would recognize your face anywhere, no matter how hard I try to forget."

"Claire-"

"Yeah, that's my name, so?"

He started to speak, but at that moment the door opened and Charlie came in with a book under her arm.

"I already put my clothes into the washing machine." Only when she looked up she registered the visitor and her eyes searched first for Sam, then for Castiel.

"Is that her?" Claire's face twisted almost painfully. "Your good child?"

"Yes, this is Charlie, my daughter."

"Who is this, Dad?" Charlie's hand reached for Castiel's.

"I'm the big sister you've probably never heard of." Her face twitched as if someone was electrocuting her. She wiped her eyes as inconspicuously as possible. "But hey! I'd never heard of you before either."

Charlie grew even more uncertain. Castiel wanted to sweep her up into his arms and get her away from the tension.

"She's not your real sister," he told her instead. "She's the daughter of my vessel Jim Novak and his wife." He now looked straight at Claire. "I'm still very sorry that you lost your father because of me."

She said nothing. She looked at the ground and shook her head. For a moment it was so quiet that the whirl of the ventilation sounded like a storm brewing. Then, with a quick movement, she swept the glass off the table. It hit the wall where it shattered into many pieces.

"Fuck you!"

Charlie flinched. Claire was on her feet faster than his eyes could follow and pushed past him. Black eyeliner streaked down her cheeks. She had reached the door before pausing again. "Maybe right now he still thinks you’re interesting and entertaining, but that’s not gonna last. Believe me, the day is gonna come when you’ll be just as undesirable and forgotten as me." 

Castiel was surprised that Dean, of all people, pushed back his chair and followed her. "Claire, wait."

He must have caught up with her somewhere outside the door. Dean's voice sounded even darker than usual, compared to hers, which grew louder and overturned with emotion.

"She does not like me." He had almost forgotten about Charlie.

"She is confused." Castiel patted her head. "This results in her inability to judge the situation correctly. You will never be unwanted."

Sam had also got up. In his eyes Castiel recognized a silent accusation and he immediately felt bad, even if he couldn't say why.

"How was your dance class?"

Castiel wished Sam would at least tell him what he had done wrong so that he could optimize his behavior in the future, but he just looked past him and leaned down to speak to his daughter.

"Good."

"Maybe you can take a shower now and get ready for bed, then we can watch a movie together. What do you think? We could make some popcorn?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"You don't have to if you'd rather do something different. "

"No, I want to."

Castiel watched them leave the room. He didn't ask if he could join, although there was nothing he wanted more right now. He knew when he was unwanted. 

\- 

There were no more voices in the hallway. He went into the kitchen first, then into Dean's room, but there was nobody there. Only the sounds from the shooting range put him on the right track. Dean stood turned away from him and aimed at a moving target with a small-caliber rifle. Every shot echoed back from the walls.

"You should use hearing protection."

Dean shrugged. In moments like these, Castiel realized painfully that Dean was mortal and aging. His eyes looked as tired as if he hadn't slept in years.

"You think I got any sort of hearing protection out there, when I’m shooting a ghoul or a shapeshifter?"

He felt uncomfortable that Dean had brought his glass down here. He considered mentioning it, but he let it go. There had been enough fighting for today. He was here to seek peace.

"Has Claire left?"

"Yup." 

Dean reloaded the gun. The outlines of a human body moved along the wall. Dean took aim again and pulled the trigger.

"Did she say anything else?"

"She sure did. She asked me what kind of pact we made, so we could have a child together. And when I told her the truth, she laughed." He pulled the trigger again but there was nothing to hear except for an empty clicking sound. "'You know Dean, I used to hate you,' she said, 'but now I only feel pity, because you're the one he's fucking over the most.”

"You know that is not the truth. You know my feelings for you."

Castiel tried to reach for Dean to embrace him, but he pushed him away.

"You shouldn't have said those things to her."

"What should I have told her instead? She is not my daughter. Jim Novak is dead. "

"That's not the point." When Dean turned around, Castiel registered how angry he was. "You hurt her." He put the gun on the small table. "You don't have the faintest idea what it is like to wish for something from someone you’re never gonna get." He shook his head. "You tell yourself that it's okay, that you don't need it anyway and that it's not because of yourself —but then you see that that someone does want that thing after all, just with someone else and then there is no other option but to take it personal."

"I'm sorry if Claire's situation reminded you of your own experiences with your father and Adam."

Dean dropped the magazine from the gun and put it back in the gun cabinet.

"You really don't get it, Cas. Huh?"

When his eyes slid to the ground because something told him that he was no longer allowed to look at Dean, he noticed the unicorn coloring book lying on the shelf.

"Has Charlie been down here?"

Dean snorted. "Sometimes between shooting practice I just feel like coloring in a few unicorns."

"Dean, Sam will be angry if he learns about this. We agreed-"

"What? That she should simply dance away any angels or other monsters that attack her?"

"That's not what this is about."

"And what is it about then? You guys want to send her into a battle she cannot win, completely untrained. She's a Winchester. She’s got to be able to defend herself." Once again he noticed the dark circles under Dean's eyes. "Besides, I didn’t do shit. She came down here herself, asking me to show her how to shoot."

"She simply wanted to spend time with you." Castiel made an effort to make his voice soft. "She wanted to please you."

"The same way she wants to please you by inhaling all that useless shit about heaven, or the way she's trying to please Sam by pretending that she's into ballet and the whole apple pie bullshit?"

He shook his head, turned, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" 

"Wichita. Shapeshifter, probably. I think I'll be back the day after tomorrow. "

-

He had not meant to run into Sam again; he had not been hanging around in the hallway, waiting for him to turn up. 

Sam left his own bedroom with Charlie’s sleeping body in his arms. He threw Castiel a reproachful look, kept quiet, and carried their daughter into her room. When he stepped out again and closed the door without making a sound, he seemed angrier still. "Let’s hope she’s as over this as she seems. I tried explaining the situation to her, but I’m not sure if she really understood." He looked up at Castiel. "You really could have chosen your words a little better."

At least in this, the brothers were of one mind. 

"Nothing I said wasn’t factual."

"She didn’t want to hear facts, Cas. Sometimes people want to hear what they need to hear."

Castiel blinked. 

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He walked back to his own room. Inside, he took the almost empty bowl of popcorn off the bed, and put it down on the table next to it. Only then he seemed to notice that Castiel had followed him and was standing in front of the open door. "Where’s Dean?"

"He left for a case. He said he’d be back again in approximately two days." 

As expected, Sam didn’t look too happy to hear this. Even though it was evident that whenever Dean was on a case, Sam tended to be more relaxed. 

"Don’t tell me you guys fought again." 

Castiel considered this for a moment. "Dean and I don’t tend to fight." 

"Yeah, no, right. That’s just ‘cause you never react when he tries to." 

Sam had cleared his bed off Charlie’s residue. Since she’d gotten her own room, his had returned to the old sleekness that didn’t reveal that anyone lived here permanently. Sam stood, his palm pressed into his side, and glared at him accusatory. 

Castiel wished he understood why he was so angry. Sam sympathized with people easily, but this preoccupation with Claire’s well-being still surprised him. He hardly knew her. 

"Do you wish for me to fight more with Dean?" he asked. 

Sam made a sound like air escaping from a balloon. "Of course not." 

"I was under the impression that you found it distressing when he and I fought. Most people prefer harmony." 

"Right." Sam looked up at the bunker ceiling. "Because not fighting and things being harmonious are the same. Just look at me and Dean.” 

For a second it seemed as if Sam were going to tell him more; Castiel wanted him to. 

He took a tentative step towards Sam, who immediately held up his hands in warning. "Just call Dean and tell him you’re sorry," he said quickly, not explaining what exactly he was supposed to be sorry for. "And if I were you, I’d try to mend things with Claire too." 

Castiel understood that he was to turn around and leave for his and Dean’s room. Then there was a hand tugging on his lapel. "And please," Sam said, his voice quiet now, "don’t tell him that I told you to call him."

He watched Sam’s long and slender finger uncurl around the cloth of his trench coat, and nodded. 

It was not a lie, he thought. He did feel sorry when he hurt Dean, when he felt he’d disappointed him. If Castiel knew how to curb these moments from occurring, he would. 

"Goodnight, Sam." 

Sam wore a pained expression, as he nodded, but there was the thinnest of smiles on his face too. 

"Night, Cas." 


	8. Year 8

"This is bullshit," Sam muttered under his breath, as he closed his laptop.

"What is?"

He had all but forgotten that Castiel was sitting across the table from him. He had been so quiet, absorbed in his book. Now he looked at Sam with wide eyes and leaned onto his arms.

"Oh, it's nothing important," Sam said. And then when Castiel didn’t avert his gaze: "I was just reading a review about some French movie that the author claims is a cheap knock-off of an American movie that came out last year, when really it’s the other way round. The American one is a remake of another, much older one by the same French director.”

Castiel looked at him motionless.

"Sorry," laughed Sam. He was pretty sure that Castiel had no idea what he was talking about, let alone why it annoyed him. It was just one of those things. "I’m just tired and a bit cranky. I don't know why I even care - You know, sometimes stuff pisses you off that doesn't really have anything to with you? That's the internet for you, I guess."

Castiel nodded. Sam could hardly picture him joining in on any internet comment flame wars.

"It’s not like I even watched any of these movies," he admitted.

"Why not?"

"I would’t even know when or how." He didn’t mean to sound like he was feeling sorry for himself, but it was difficult not to. "Pretty much everything I've been watching over the last years is stuff Charlie wants to watch. And as advanced as she is for her age, these kind of movies would be a bit too mature even for her. Besides, some movies need to be watched on a big screen, and for that I'd need to drive out to Wichita. All that, just to get some culture in me? I'd rather read a book when I get some time for myself. Less hassle.”

Not that Sam had been getting a lot of non-case related reading in since, well, since college ready. It wasn't even something he could blame on Charlie.

"You think this movie would not be appropriate for Charlie because of its subject matter?"

"They wouldn't even let her into the cinema. Even if they did, I certainly don't want to sit through some French sex scenes with her."

The thought alone was enough to conjure up extremely awkward feelings.

"As an angel she will-"

"No!" Sam raised a hand, half-threatening, half-laughing. "Don't tell me that it’s different because she’s an angel. You’re not going to change my mind on that."

"I didn't want to encourage you to watch this film with her. I just wanted to point out that sexuality is different for angels than it is for people."

As if Sam could ever forget. He rubbed over his forehead and pushed the laptop away.

"I really don't want to talk about Charlie's sexuality right now. I thought I had a few more years before that horror started. It's not like I don't already feel overwhelmed and underprepared."

"Sam." Castiel reached across the table and put his hand on his. "Rest assured. You are a wonderful father."

Sam pulled his hand away. "Thanks," he mumbled and then, "It's still so strange to me but: you too, Cas."

"This surprises you?"

Castiel cocked his head. He looked hurt. Sam regretted pulling his hand back so quickly.

"I'm not surprised that you're a good father. I just meant, sometimes it's still hard to get my head around the fact that we have a child together. It’s just so far off from what I ever saw in my future - and I could picture a lot."

"You are still surprised after all these years?"

"Can you blame me? Her existence isn't even supposed to be physically possible." Sam considered his hand, splayed over the table. He thought how often his body had been less than fully human, and how many times it hadn’t seemed fully his. In the grand scheme of things, bearing a child, human or otherwise, didn’t even seem that invasive.

He did not spend a lot of time thinking about the pregnancy itself anymore. Not even about how it had come about. Of course he wished he hadn’t lied to Dean. Of course he wished he’d never hurt him. But regretting the night with Castiel always at least implied regretting Charlie’s birth too. And he felt a gnawing sense of guilt, looking at his daughter and thinking he wished he’d never let Castiel kiss him that night, wishing he’d never gotten so drunk in the first place. Because the truth of the matter was, he regretted it every day and didn’t at the same time. He wanted her not to have been born and still wanted her to exist. He never tried to linger on these thoughts too long, because it always felt like his thoughts were either betraying Dean or Charlie - or both of them at the same time.

And then there were all the other questions, still after all these years. Drunk or not, a part of him had wanted Castiel that night. A part of him had longed for it, and that knowledge churned something deep inside him.

And then there was the other big why, the one he could never answer himself.

"You never explained it to me. Why you did it. Why-" Sam drew his hand back from the table, let it it disappear under the table.

Castiel looked at him with big open eyes, and remained silent. Maybe he was trying to find the right words. But what was Sam trying to gain here? Another love declaration that left him feeling uncomfortable and yet strangely reassured, that at least someone still thought of his as good and worthy of affection.

"Sorry, forget it." Sam shook his head. "Like I said, I’m just really tired. And a little anxious; Dean and Charlie should have been back half an hour ago.”

"Why don't you call your brother?"

"I don't want him to answer his cell when he's driving and she's there with him."

"Sam.” There were many ways in which Castiel pronounced his name. He often used this gentle but slightly reproachful tone when Sam expressed anxiety about Charlie.

"Besides, Dean would take it as me not trusting him again. That I don't think he can take good care of her. ”

"And? Would he be right in thinking that?”

"No."

Castiel's eyes were doubtful.

"No, I know he takes great care of her. There's just-” Sam wrestled for the right words. "The two of them together can just be a bit of an explosive combination. I feel like every time she spends the day with him, or even if they're together for just a few hours, she becomes really different, you know? She gets this weird supercharged energy. And I guess I shouldn't mind, but it's just ..."

"You find them exhausting?"

"No." This sounded horrible. "Well, maybe that too a little, but that's not it. She gets this same, um, energy as him, kind of aggressive maybe? I can’t explain it very well."

And there was that other thing too. He was aware that Charlie preferred Dean to him, and that fact bothered him more the more obvious it became. It was a good thing they had each other, of course. But sometimes it hurt to be taken for granted, when he was the one doing most of the work. While Dean got to enjoy the fun times with his niece.

Sam got up from the table, feeling frustrated and, again, a little guilty. He shouldn’t be sharing all his grievances with Castiel like this - but who else could he even talk? It was exhausting to constantly bottle up all his feelings, just so he wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes.

"Where are you going?" Castiel also rose from his chair to follow him.

Sam halted and frowned.

"I just remembered that Charlie emptied her entire box of pens in my room yesterday and of course, she didn't clean it up even though she promised she should, and - well, I feel so damn useless just sitting around waiting for them. But I'm also way too nervous to get any work done. So I might as well do something useful where I don’t need to think.”

Hundreds of pens in different colors and styles lay on the floor in his room. The wooden box pushed to the edge of the room was empty.

Sam bent down and started picking up pen by pen.

"She likes to empty the box completely." Castiel leaned against the door frame, something akin to adoration in his voice. "She is very thorough."

"Thorough," snorted Sam. "That's one way to call it."

He picked up a pencil that was so stubby and short, that he doubted it was still functional. Sam knelt down onto the floor, and wondered what the quickest method of cleaning this mess up was. He looked up at Castiel, who seemed content where he was.

"Are you just gonna stand there watching me clean or do you wanna help?"

He feared for a moment that Castiel would confirm that he preferred just watching, but instead he walked towards other end of the room, where a few of the pens had rolled off to. Sam recalled almost tripping over them this morning.

After working quietly for a while, Sam saw a felt pen had rolled under his bed. "Damn," he muttered, slid under the slightly dusty bed frame as far as he could, and reached out until his fingers finally clasped the plastic. As he dove up again, he banged against the frame.

"Shit!" He put a hand up to the back of head, and let himself fall onto the unmade bed. He felt a little fuzzy, as a sharp pain seared through his skull.

Castiel sat down beside him. "Are you okay?"

"This pen doesn't even have a cap." Sam slid his thumb across the tip. "See?" He took Castiel's hand and ran the pen over the back of it. It left no trace. "This thing is completely dried out. I just banged my head because of a pen that I'm gonna have to throw away anyway."

Castiel gazed at him with compassion in his eyes. "Let me have a look."

Sam dropped his head forward. Castiel's hands went into his hair and started carding through it.

"I don't see anything."

"Well, I didn't really think it would be bleeding. It was more the force of the blow. I think I'll just have to live with a headache for a bit."

Castiel's fingers slipped over the back of his head, almost like a scalp massage. Sam suppressed a sigh, and the need to move closer. He knew how starved he was for touches that weren't hugs from his daughter. He told himself this was normal, and the closeness was fine, after all this was part of the healing process. More or less.

"Do you remember that horrible date Dean sent me on last month?" he asked. He wasn’t sure why it popped into his head just then.

"Yes." Castiel's voice sounded gruff and dissatisfied. "I remember."

"I knew it was a dumb idea, but-" He turned his head slightly towards Castiel, whose fingers were still running through his hair. They that he was no longer looking for a bump there. Sam didn't try to think about it.

"It wasn't going well?" Castiel asked in a husky voice. "I concluded as much since you never mentioned that person again."

"That's just the thing. At first, it was great. You know, when Dean told me he’d set up a date for me, it just sounded dreadful, but I figured I'd just get it over with and endure one crappy evening. How bad could it get, right?"

"Why did you go at all? Romantic dates are usually not mandatory."

"Because Dean - because I can't refuse Dean something like that."

"I see."

It was absurd that he felt sorry for him Castiel just then. It was an automatism that he had adopted in recent years. If Castiel was sad, it didn't take long for Charlie to feel sad too, and if Charlie was sad, Sam never felt quite right. So really, it was a self-preserving impulse.

Sam squeezed Castiel's knee, a little awkwardly.

Castiel threw him a smiled a little. "I didn’t mean to interrupted your story. You wanted to report on a terrible date that was initially less terrible than you thought. ”

"Yeah. It was - I don't know who I was expecting, but not someone like her. She was really funny and beautiful and smart, and-" Sam raised the corner of his mouth, remembering how pleasantly surprised he’d been. "We just clicked right away. I still have no idea where Dean found her. He said he had met her on a case, but somehow I doubt it."

"You meet many people who are important to you in life unexpectedly," Castiel pointed out. "So you liked her."

"Yeah, I did. And the evening went really well at first." Sam studied Castiel as he spoke. "But then after dinner she asked me if I wanted to go home with her."

"And you did," Castiel knew. One of his hands lay lazily at the back of Sam's shoulder, below his neck, almost forgotten there.

"Yeah. It felt right and I thought, when do I get another chance like that? When am I gonna meet someone like that again? In the bunker? In the supermarket? Where else do I even go?"

Castiel's eyes didn't change, but there was a slight twitch in his cheek. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes."

He knew it was a strange topic to talk to Castiel about, but who else was he going to talk to? Who else, when Castiel was the only real friend he had, and the only person who was an integral part of his life besides Dean and Charlie. He had to be able to talk to someone about something without it being a big thing.

Castiel dropped his hand, left it behind Sam’s on the bed.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Well, okay, granted. Maybe this wasn't that most normal a topic for them to talk about. Perhaps, Sam admitted, there might have been a subconsciously hope to hear the jealousy in Castiel's words. Not because it was Castiel. Not because he had any interest in him, but simply because it was good to know that there was someone who could still feel that way about him.

"Yeah. I mean. Honestly, it would have been really hard to disappoint me at that point. The last time was -” Sam pressed his lips together tightly. "It’s been a few years."

"I'm glad you had such a positive sexual experience."

Sam mhm-ed in response.

"But why did it turn bad?"

"Oh, it was me - I went to check my phone for the time and I said something about Charlie and -"

Castiel frowned. "She knew about Charlie?"

"Of course, I told her about Charlie. Hiding the fact that I have a child would have been such an asshole move. And at first she took it really well too. I think she was kind of glorifying the whole single father thing— ” He suddenly laughed when he thought about enthusiastic she had been. "And well, I admitted that I wasn't exactly a single parent. That I was raising her with Charlie's father, who is my brother's partner, who also happens to helps a lot." He would never forget the look she had given him. "It was all downhill from there."

Sam had to laugh again. In retrospect, the story and his misstep seemed so ridiculous, but the rejection had hurt back then.

Castiel turned his head to one side. "She didn't ask you to clarify?"

"No. I think she just thought I was a weirdo. Like she suddenly knew what my catch was.”

"I'm your catch?" Castiel's fingers curled on his own knee. Sam missed feeling them in his hair.

"No, my whole life is. Even if she had seen it differently - I don't know what Dean was thinking. How could I ever have a relationship as long as we all live in the bunker? Besides all the things that I would have to explain to her. I mean, explaining the hunter thing was bad enough, but now?" Sam huffed. "I don’t know what Dean was thinking, trying to act as a matchmaker. How was setting me ever going to work in the long term?"

Dean had probably just been happy to have him out of the house for an evening.

"Maybe Dean wasn't planning for you to have a long relationship, but hoping for the result that the evening did bring for you."

"You think? He knows one nightstands aren’t really my kind of thing. I mean, I would be lying if I said that I'm not lonely sometimes. But-"

"But what you really want is someone who is always with you and who no longer divides and complicates your life. Someone who offers physical closeness but also understands you. With whom you can talk and who shares some of your interests. Someone who loves you for who you are."

Sam ducked away, he couldn’t looking at Castiel’s face when he said things like that.

But he heard himself say, quiet, as if to himself: "Yeah."

"Sam." Castiel had scooted closer and his hand was the back of his neck again, his fingers ghosting over Sam's skin.

Sam closed her eyes. He knew that he was just exhausted and in pain. This wasn’t what it felt like. That he was only - "Are you still in pain?" Castiel asked. "I can take it from you, if you wish."

He nodded, and seconds later felt the energy flow from Castiel's fingers into his spine and the rest of his body. His headache vanished.

"Thanks."

When he squeezed Castiel's knee in gratitude, he didn't pull his hand back immediately. He just let it linger for a second - Humans could die from too little physical contact. On top of everything, Charlie was going through a difficult period, where she rarely wanted to hug him or be close. This was all so easy to explain away.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Sam. You know I would do anything to help you. You just have to tell me how."

Sam leaned into where their bodies touched. "Thanks, but it’s okay." He pulled away again, consciously creating more space between them. "I’m okay. You don't need to worry about me."

Castiel looked at him with deep sadness and nodded. Castiel's hand slipped down onto the bed again. The lack of physical contact was instant and harsh, and Sam knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it.

"Hey, Dad. Hey, Dad.” Charlie had appeared in the door with Dean. She sounded bored, and only glanced briefly at them, then looked down at the mess on the floor and ran out, down the hall towards her own room.

"Hello Dean," Castiel said. At least his voice sounded normal again. "Was there any trouble on the way back?"

"Trouble?” Dean slowly pulled the zipper of his jacket down. "No, what do you mean?"

"We were expecting you back earlier."

Dean leaned against the door frame. He wet his lips and let his eyes slide over the room, slowly taking everything in. He took his jacket off before he spoke again.

"You guys seem more like you expected us back a lot later than now."

Sam rubbed over his forehead, as if to prove something. "I hit my head pretty badly."

"So? You want me to kiss it better?"

"What Sam means to say-" Castiel began, but Dean cut him off.

"Thanks. I think Sam can just about speak for himself still.”

Castiel stood up and put his hands on his boyfriend's shoulder. His demeanor had changed. "Dean, I just wanted you -"

Dean's voice was deep. "Not now, Cas, okay?"

"We both talked about-"

"Not right now!"

Sam had rarely seen the two raise their voices at each other in the past few years. Even a fight like Sam was witnessing now was more than he generally got to see.

The expression on Castiel's face was also unusual. There was so much suppressed anger and unspoken words.

Finally Castiel nodded; Dean had won.

"Okay, then. I'll be with Charlie if you change your mind."

"Charlie's in a bad mood. So, if I were you, I'd try not to piss her off."

Castiel said nothing more before leaving the room.

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother.

"What was that all about?"

"What?" Dean finally took off his jacket completely and put it over his arm. "What was what all about?"

"Are you guys fighting?"

"No." He leaned against the wall again. "We never fight. For us to fight, he'd have to understand what I'm telling him in the first place.”

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean raised his hand to stop him.

"If you're about to give me relationship advice, don’t."

"I wasn't gonna give you any advice. I just wanted to ask if everything was ok."

Dean huffed, exasperated.

"Yeah, man, you sure seem concerned about my well-being." His words very dripping with sarcasm.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "You remember how you keep accusing me of being paranoid?"

Sam got up from the bed. In a conversation like this, he couldn't stand it when his brother towered over him.

"Of course," he said slowly. "Because you are. You know you can trust me."

"Yeah?" Dean put his hands in the air, he gestured as if they had an audience. "You know what would really help me to be more trusting? If I didn’t come home to you guys in bed together. Just a thought."

"In bed together? Give me a break." Sam's said. "I told you, I banged my head and he helped he out. We were in here, because we were cleaning up Charlie's mess. And we only did that because you took ages coming home and I was getting nervous. Where were you anyway?”

"We decided to get some ice cream on the way back."

"And that took you a whole hour?"

"Yes, it did.” Dean pretended to think hard for a moment. "Okay, riddle me this, Einstein: When you bang your head, how exactly do you end up in bed together? Cause you’ve hurt your head plenty of times when I was around and it sure never lead to us getting this cozy. You wanna tell me you had to put your hand on his knee like that?"

So he had seen that - that was bad luck. Sam got how that must have come across to someone already perpetually on the brink of a jealous outburst.

"And how in God's name does you getting a scratch explain that look."

"What look?” Sam asked.

"The one he gave you. The one where he’s seconds away from devouring you." Dean's expression hardened even more. "I’ve been on the receiving end enough times to know exactly what he's up to when he looks at you like that. You really wanna tell me if we hadn’t come back a few minutes later, I wouldn’t have found you guys all over each other?" Dean’s face wavered for a moment, as if he was unsure about his accusations himself.

"Of course you wouldn’t have!"

"Oh come on, don’t treat me like an idiot. If you had an ounce of respect for me, you’d admit you knew where this was heading."

It really wasn't smart of Sam, he knew that, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Why are you grilling me like that?" He took a step towards Dean. "Why do you always ask me to explain away his behavior? I didn't do anything, okay? I wasn't going to do anything and I wouldn't do that to you!”

"Ah, yeah, of course I remember: you had to let him touch you because you 'hit your head'."

"I did hit my head! Why don't you ask him, if you don’t like the way he looks at me? Why don't you just ask him for once!”

"How do you know that’s not what I’m doing?"

"Because I know you don’t! Everything about this situation,” Sam gestured around the room. "It's always completely on me according to you. When all I ever did was -”

"All you did was what? Mhm?" Dean had come so close to him that Sam could feel his breath on his face. "You didn't do anything bad? Is that what you think? ”

"No, of course not. I know that I messed up, I know what I did wrong."

"If you know what you did, why are you being such a bitch right now? Is it really that hard to just not touch him? Huh? It’s not rocket science. I’m asking you to keep away from my boyfriend."

Sam turned his head away. "You can't forbid me to interact with him." It was the wrong choice of words, he knew. "You can't go crazy every time we talk, or every time I graze him. He's Charlie's father. He's my friend, in fact he’s the only friend I got left. If you don't want us to interact, then you shouldn't let us live together."

Dean laughed woodenly.

"You mean this is all my fault then?"

"No, but if you hadn't made me stay in the first place-"

"If you had thought a second before you let him impregnate you-"

"I didn't want that! I never wanted that. And you know that!" Sam shook his head. "Have you ever asked him why he did it? Why he wanted a child from me but not from you? Should I have just known? I know what I did wrong, Dean, I know. I shouldn't ever have gotten so drunk, I should have been able to say no, and I shouldn't have lied to you, but... this all happened a decade ago. There's no way for me to change it now." He breathed out slowly. "What do you expect me to do about it? Do you really not want me to talk with him at all? Do you want me to ignore him completely? Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll move out and I’ll cut off all contact. But if I'm supposed to stay here and be cordial and be a family..."

Sam shook his head once more and then spoke quietly. "If you look at him looking at me and immediately hink that he want to kiss me, how is that my fault? How am I supposed to change that? Why is my fault if you don't trust him?"

It was enough, he had made his point, he was tired and weary, and still he added: "What am I supposed to do about the fact that you think he's still in love with me?”

There was silence for a moment.

"You know what, Sam?" Dean's nostrils flared, but his voice was even. "Fuck you."

It barely registered as an insult, but the next words hit Sam like a tidal wave.

"You’re right, none of this would be a problem if I hadn't stopped you from leaving. I wish I hadn’t. I wish you’d left and kept Charlie here. You’d be much happier without her anyway."

He turned around on the spot and strode out of the room.

Sam dropped down onto his bed. The short pencil he knew he had to throw away pricked him in his thigh, but he didn't move away.

He heard Dean's loud voice and Castiel's soft answers, but he didn't understand what they were saying. He didn't want to understand any of it, either.

A door was slammed. Loud steps in the hallway.

At some point Charlie appeared in the door.

"Are you back together with Dad?" she asked and twisted one of her long strands of black hair around her finger.

Sam frowned. "What? No. I was never with him. Where did you get that?"

"Well, you kinda were together at some point." She pointed to herself.

He was tired and exhausted and unable to go against their logic.

"Well, we're not together now in any way."

"That's too bad." She shrugged. She looked genuinely saddened to hear it. "I thought maybe it was true."

Sam got up and crouched down next to her.

"You shouldn't be listening to them fight."

"Are they gonna split up?"

"No, I don’t think so.” Sam went in to hug her, he was glad to see she let him. "You shouldn't want something like that." He kissed her hair, but now she twisted away a little. "You know that Castiel makes Dean very happy."

At least in theory he did.

She glared at him the way she did when she thought he was lying to him.

Castiel appeared in the door then, frowning.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked. He let go of his daughter and rose.

"Dean has informed me that he cannot be in the bunker right now."

"What does that mean? Where's he going?"

"All he said was that I shouldn't follow him."

As Sam looked between Castiel and his daughter, their faces a picture of confusion, he tried to push down the panic. It wasn’t the first time Dean had taken off like that, and it wasn’t going to be the last either. But he knew he was the one doing this. It didn’t matter if it was fair or not, Sam was always the one Dean felt most betrayed and angry with. In this moment it seemed so clear to him, they couldn’t all stay here and coexist peacefully. It was never going to get better, quite the opposite.

Dean didn't turn up that night. Not the next day either. Sam told Charlie he was probably on a hunt, and not to worry, but he knew how hypocritical it was, considering the lump in his throat when he repeated the lines to her.

His messages were left unanswered, but he hadn't expected anything else.

Charlie seemed the least worried out of them, anyway. Sam tried to keep to himself, and whenever Castiel tried to bring up anything that was directly related to Dean or Charlie, Sam excused himself, found reasons why he had to leave the room. Castiel must have noticed but he did not question him. All it did was make Sam feel guilty towards yet another person.

Dean didn't come back until three days later.

Sam ran into him in the library, where Dean sat in a chair, as if nothing had happened, his legs on the table, cleaning guns.

Sam watched him for a moment, unable to identify the mix of emotions inside him, beside the relief to see his brother return - he seemed unharmed.

"I'm glad you came back," he eventually said.

Dean glanced up and down at the gun in his heads again. "Of course."

"I wanted to apologize," Sam started the sentences that he had prepared to say to him over the last days. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"Forget it."

"No, Dean, I was out of line, I -"

"Forget it. You just said what you were thinking. And you're right. You guys weren't exactly doing anything off-limits." He paused. He was cleaning the gun quite thoroughly today. "I just had to get away from Cas for a bit."

"Oh," Sam said, a little deflated. "Oh, Okay. That's good."

"Yup."

"So... we're good?" Sam ventured.

"Sure. I mean, you said I could trust you, so I'm gonna trust you, right?"

"Right."

The silence between them was extremely uncomfortable, but the peace was so fragile that Sam couldn’t think of anything safe to say.

"So, have you been keeping up with your housekeeping duties?" Dean asked. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but Sam could sense that he was trying stay calm and civil. "Any dinner plans?"

"Oh, uh, yes. I've got a casserole in the oven?”

"Great." Dean put the rag aside and set down the gun on the table, facing Sam. "I guess I'll go and say hello to Charlie then."

Sam watched him leave. He wondered where Dean had been in the past few days. What he had done. And what he was gonna tell Charlie about what had happened.


	9. Year 9

It was just as bad as he'd imagined it would be. Dean forced his lips into something resembling a smile.

"So what do you think?"

As kids they had sometimes built caves under their motel beds. They hadn’t done it very often, and Dean hadn't thought of it in years, but something in Sam's voice pulled him back in time. As if his brother was five again, and needed his approval and a clap on the back. _"Well done, Sammy."_

"It looks," just one wrong word would have been enough to destroy the fragile peace between them, "cozy. You know, like you could make a real home out of it. "

Sam smiled at him, appeased.

"Everything's still a little..." Now it was Sam who was struggling for the right words. In an almost desperate gesture he pointed at the stained and worn out couch. Its pastel green reminded Dean of the 90s. "That's the downside to renting a furnished place."

It hurt how much it looked like the rundown motel rooms they had slept in over the years before they'd found the bunker. How could Sam have abandoned their home for this?

"You could buy some new stuff and make it more of your own."

The conversation progressed as slow as molasses. But at least they weren't hurting each other with their words. So far.

"Yeah, I already started." Sam pointed in the direction of table in the corner adorned with wood paneling.

Dean didn't know what he meant. The wooden table, varnished in brown paint, didn't look very new. Maybe he meant the painting on the wall - a print of a bowl of fruit? Not very likely.

Charlie's bright striped sweatshirt hung over one of the chairs as if she had meant to add a splash of color to this dark house.

Dean wondered how there could be less daylight in a town house than in a bunker.

"I bought new dishes and some other stuff." Sam shrugged. "It's kind of wild how much money you can spend on these kind of things." And then when Dean didn't answer: "Come on, sit down. I’ll go get the coffee."

Since Dean had entered the house, Sam hadn't stood still for one moment. He ran into the kitchen and left Dean alone again. In the middle of the table stood two small porcelain pigs. It was only when Dean picked them up, that he noticed they were pepper and salt shakers. The feeling that flowed through him was strange.

He wanted to make fun of Sam, but he found that he couldn't.

He wanted to be angry because his brother had simply up and left, just like he had done when he'd went to Stanford.

He wanted to be relieved because he no longer had to watch as Sam and Castiel grew closer by the day.

He wanted Sam back, he wanted him by his side, always.

He felt all of this at once. He was a little afraid the many contradiction emotions might hot wire his heart.

"Do you want milk or sugar?"

"You know I take it black."

Sam stuck his head through the door frame.

"I know, I just thought-"

His head disappeared again, before he returned balancing two coffee cups in his hands. Like, in actual ceramic cups.

Dean let go of the pigs and held on to the coffee cup instead.

"Good coffee," he said after one sip, to fill the silence. As if you could go really wrong with plain filtered coffee.

"Thanks."

Was that really the life Sam wanted to live? Was this a life anyone wanted to live?

He had never visited Sam in Stanford. They hadn't really split on good terms. Although Dean hadn't actually had anything to do with the conflict between Sam and their father, Sam had abandoned him to, left him behind like a tattered old sweater. Dean had known that Sam would have been ashamed of his stupid primitive brother if he had shown up in Stanford. That wasn't all though. If Dean was really honest with himself, he hadn't visited him because he couldn't stand to see this different version of Sam. He had been afraid that he would find that they were no longer connected, that they were alien. Strangers like they were now.

"Oh, I forgot."

Sam pushed back his chair, got up and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back he brought out a pie on a porcelain plate. "This is so much better than the crap they sell you at the gas station."

"You baked?"

"No." Sam cut the pie into pieces. "There was a bake sale for charity at Charlie’s school yesterday and I saw they had cherry pie, so I thought of you and bought the whole thing.”

Apparently it was enough for Sam to watch him eat; his own plate remained empty. Although the pie tasted really good, every bite felt like chewing gum and it stuck to the roof of his mouth. The only good thing was that he didn't have to fill the silence while he was eating.

"So Charlie likes her new school?"

Sam nodded again.

"Has she made any friends yet?"

"A few. Do you another piece of pie?

He wasn't really hungry, but he nodded and held out his plate. They both played their parts.

"Thanks. What about you? Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah." The piece Sam cut was much too big and the cherry-filled ran out the sides like blood. When he put it on Dean's plate, it toppled over. "Isn’t that some kind of bad omen?" Dean asked. "I think it means you won't get married for seven years or something?" He laughed. What a bizarre thing to remember.

"I got a job in an attorney's office. It's only for a couple of hours every morning, but when Charlie has settled in, maybe I can increase my hours."

"Yeah, Cas mentioned that. Congrats. At least your college years weren’t a total waste of time then."

It was supposed to sound funny, but when the words left his mouth he noticed how bitter they were.

"You guys talk about me?" Sam’s eyes were big, something between fear and irritation in them.

"Of course, we live together. Why shouldn't we talk about what happens when he visits you twice a week? "

"He's not visiting me, he's visiting Charlie."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever. But yeah, we do talk about you."

Sam stacked the plates. A car drove past the house.

"You could have called me if you just wanted to know how I was doing."

"You could have called me too. After all you were the one who just ran away."

Sam froze in motion and fixed the plates in his hand as intensely as if stacking them together was a task that would overwhelm him both cognitively and emotionally.

"It's not a crime to want your own life." He chose every word as carefully as if they were made of glass. "It doesn't mean that you mean any less to me or that anything has changed."

Dean laughed.

"Yeah sure, go tell that to Cas. To him it’s obvious that I drove you away with my 'paranoia' and -"

"Dean, please." Sam put his hand on Dean's arm. "I was really looking forward to seeing you. I really want you to be part of my life." He raised his hands to include the entire house. "But I have no strength left for arguing. Not over the same things, over and over again. The world doesn't revolve just around you and Cas, and for the last time: I didn't leave because of you.” He shook his head. "Why can't you understand that I just have my own wants and needs too? I don't want to have to hide in a bunker all my life. I want to have a job, friends, maybe get to know someone - just lead a normal life." He took a deep breath, "And that's what I want for Charlie too."

"Castiel, he is," Dean thought a moment before quoting him, “'saddened' that he can see so little of her." He tried to push aside the thought that Castiel wasn't just missing his daughter.

"I know." Sam slumped a bit. "But Charlie needs time to get used to this life. She can't do that when he's here every day."

Dean nodded.

"I need some time too." Sam put the plates back on the table and touched Dean on the arm.

"I know it's so silly but sometimes I just wish you could just be my big brother again. The one person I know I can always count on."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to swallow down the feeling that he was going to shatter in pieces any second now. He wanted to be that someone for Sam. Why had it gotten so complicated?

"I just don't know how to do this." He swallowed and laughed at the same time and then pointed to the table. "A house, a child, a normal job… this apple pie life."

"I'm not asking for any brokering tips or how to plant flowers in my garden. I just want us to spend time together like... " Sam searched for the right words. "Like normal brothers."

"And how do normal brothers spend time together?"

The mail arrived. Dean saw the mail van through the window and a dog barked in the next door building.

"I don't know, we could play mini golf? It's a nice day out and - " Apparently Dean's laughter deterred him, because he stopped speaking for a moment. "Or we could drive to the furniture store. I still need a small cabinet for the bathroom and some towels. Besides the food's not too bad there."

"Okay."

Dean didn't really feel like going. He just felt like he wasn't allowed to say no to yet another idea, especially because he couldn't think of anything better to do himself.

"Really?” Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Sure, but what about Charlie?"

"She still has afternoon classes today. We can get her on our way back." Sam smiled. "She'll be so thrilled to see you."

"You didn't tell her I was coming?"

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't sure if you were really going to come. And she wouldn’t have gone to school if she knew you were coming today."

"I thought you said she liked school."

Sam's expression got slightly desperate. "She does, but what kind of kid likes to go to school when their favorite uncle comes to visit?"

"You mean her only uncle."

He pulled the corner of his mouth into another pained smile.

* * *

In retrospect, Dean was grateful for Sam has suggested the furniture store. He wondered how it was possible that it could be so crowded on a Wednesday afternoon. At least here he knew what he was supposed to be doing, even if that was just follow Sam through the different departments and answer questions about the quality of bath mats or bedside lamps every now and then.

He thought that he played his role as a normal brother very convincingly, as he followed Sam into the restaurant area with a shopping cart full of things, a stuffed unicorn sitting on the very top.

"Do you want to take the special too? It's on me."

It was strange how Sam said that. They had always brought food home from the diner for each other, but they'd never had to announce who was paying. There had never been Dean's or Sam's money, just "How much do we have left?" when it was time to play pool somewhere or get a new credit card sent to them.

"Sure."

He knew that he was looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses and ironing out all the arguments and conflicts that had existed between them even then. But still: In moments like this the past shone brightly and he missed it with all his heart.

A cell phone was ringing a friendly, annoying tune. The tone was painfully familiar. Sam had left his backpack with him while he went to get the food. Dean hadn't wanted to look, he really hadn't, but maybe it was important and... slowly he opened the zipper. The cell phone lay on top of Sam's jacket. The blue light of the display shouted a name at him. Dean's heart clenched painfully. After an eternity in which he struggled against the impulse to pick up the phone and ask Castiel why the hell he was calling Sam right now, the ringing stopped. There was silence for two or three seconds before it started again.

"Man, what are you doing with my phone?"

Sam threw the tray onto the table and from his look it was obvious how angry he was.

"Why does Cas keep calling you?"

"Are you out of your mind? You can't just grab my phone like that!"

"I wasn't. I was just checking if-"

Then his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He held it in his hand for a moment, as if he was undecided about whether to answer the call or not, before grumbling an unfriendly "Yes" into the receiver.

"Is Charlie with you?"

So that was what this was about.

"Yeah, Cas, I had a really good trip and my day is going fine. Thanks for asking."

"Please don't joke around. Just answer my question."

"You think I was joking?"

He snorted into the receiver. Sam was still looking straight at him, but his eyes had changed from angry to almost compassionate.

"Dean, listen to me: Charlie made an emergency call via angel radio. It won't be long before all the angels-"

"What?! But how can she-"

"Is she with you?"

"No, she's at school."

Now that Sam understood who it was, he got a nervous look in his eyes.

"What’s the matter?” When Dean didn't answer, he tried to take the phone away from him.

"I will distract the angels as much as possible." Castiel said. "You have to go to her school immediately and take her some place safe."

-

Dean was glad he was driving. Sam, who was sitting next to him, looked like a mental breakdown personified. He stared out the window. It seemed like he was going to burst into tears at any moment.

"Directions?"

Dean accelerated the car.

"You need to turn left here."

Sam replied so late that Dean almost missed the turn.

"Pull yourself together!" he snapped at Sam. "We'll save her, alright? But I need you to be a hunter right now, and not a panicked father, you hear me?"

Sam nodded.

"Good. Now tell me where that damn school is. You can cry about all of this later."

He hoped that Sam would never need to cry about this.

There was nothing suspicious in the parking lot. The school yard was almost deserted. There were only a few parents picking up their children. A mother, who was heaving a colorful backpack into the trunk of her car, gave Dean an angry look when the Impala came to a halt with a loud squeak.

Dean was at the trunk with quick steps.

"Catch!" He threw an angel blade at Sam, and he pocketed the other himself. "We still got holy oil too."

"This is a school so maybe we should-"

"Yeah. Good thinking." Dean buried the oil and the blade inside his leather jacket. "Where's her classroom?"

He followed Sam into a tangle of corridors which all looked the same to him. Only the pictures hanging in the hallways changed. Finally Sam stopped in front of a door. Inside you could hear children's voices and a teacher speaking. Sam knocked on the door and then entered without waiting for an answer.

"Excuse me," he said to the twenty-five heads turning in his direction. "I would like to pick up my daughter, Charlie Winchester. There’s some important family matters we need to attend to."

Dean looked past him into the room. It was full of giggling girls, putting their heads together and playing with their long hair, but none of them were his niece.

"Oh, I’m sorry, it seems your wife was quicker than you," smiled the teacher.

"My wife?"

"Yes, you must have missed her in the corridor. She was here just minutes ago."

Sam opened his mouth. Dean pulled him away by his arm.

"Come on, this is pointless."

-

"We have no idea where to look. They could be anywhere by now."

Dean felt like Sam was about to lose it again. They could forget about finding Charlie if he stayed in this useless state of stupor. Dean leaned against the wall for a moment to think. He took a deep breath and gazed outside onto the sports field.

"Look!"

He tapped his fingers against the glass so hard that it hurt. Sam followed his gaze. In the distance, on a bench and so small that she was little more than colored dots, there was Charlie. She was sitting next to a dark-haired woman.

They ran. Dean heard Sam's footsteps behind him in sync with his own. It sounded right. While still running, he prayed to Castiel.

"We have to split up." He was surprised that Sam was the one suggesting it. Everything soft and whiny seemed to have fallen off his brother. He was a hunter again. He pointed to the building. "I'm taking the left. You come in from the right."

Dean nodded.

One last 'take care of yourself' look, then they sprint off.

His path was longer than the one Sam had to cover. Once he was stopped by a child asking him what he was doing. He ignored it and kept running until his lungs burned. When he appeared on the other side of the building, he saw Sam standing with the group of people. Slowly, in the shadows of the school, he came closer. There was another person with them. He recognized the brown trench coat.

"She doesn't belong to you," the woman told Castiel.

He noticed that she was holding Carlie's arm and that his niece was crying.

"Please. I don't want to fight. I just want my daughter and then we'll leave you alone."

"She belongs to heaven and I will take her back there."

"She's just a child!" Sam shouted.

She looked past Sam as if talking to him was beneath her and turned back to Castiel.

"She called us in need. The world of men is not right for an angel. You especially should know that."

"People are emotionally fickle," Castiel said. "Their feelings constantly changing. Charlie was not in danger. She was only temporarily unhappy. "

At the last word he glanced at Sam, who averted his eyes.

"In heaven we will teach her to overcome these feelings. Just like everything else human in her."

She was still holding her angel blade in front of her as if she had to keep Castiel at a distance. Then she took a few steps backward, pulling Charlie with her, who was hanging in her arms, almost paralyzed.

"You no longer intend to kill her?" Castiel asked.

She shook her head.

"There are brothers and sisters who associate great misfortune with the arrival of a nephilim and who believe that at best they should be used to try to reverse the closing off of heaven. But these angel are in the minority." Her voice became soft. "Castiel, I guarantee you her safety. An angel belongs in heaven. Every angel does." She cocked her head. "It is not too late for you either. You can repent and leave the world of humans behind. Repent and you will find forgiveness."

Something changed in Castiel, his features softened, he appeared less human. He took a step towards her.

"I could return to heaven? With Charlie? "

"Castiel!" Sam's voice sounded desperate. "Please don't fall for this! She’s lying!"

Dean’s and Sam’s eyes met halfway. There was this invisible bond between them that made it possible for him to understand his brother without words.

"Go!" Sam said only with a glance, as he leaned forward.

That was Dean's cue. He jumped out of his cover, whirled around, and held the angel's sword to the distracted angel's throat.

"You heard him. Let go of her."

"I completely forgot that you always have two of these monkeys around."

She was still just looking at Castiel. Her eyes had narrowed to slits.

"Are you deaf? Let her go!"

Dean pressed the knife closer to her neck.

"No matter what you do. The other angels are already on their way here. You can’t escape."

At least she let go of Charlie, who stood immobile and petrified for a second, before she ran towards Sam.

"Where are they then?” Castiel asked. “You're on your own down here."

She laughed again. "You underestimate the capabilities of your brothers and sisters. You cannot hide from us forever."

They all faced each other for a moment. No one so much as blinked. Then Castiel turned.

"Take Charlie to the car."

Sam nodded.

"Please don't harm her. It's not her fault.” Dean heard Charlie sobbing before she was pulled away by Sam.

Castiel nodded at Dean. For the first time in a long time, he saw only approval and trust in his eyes.

"I'm going to hold them off. Take care of Charlie."

Dean nodded. Then Castiel disappeared as if he had never existed.

"Dean Winchester. I know you. But what angel doesn't?" He had almost forgotten her presence for a second. "You owe your existence to heaven. We were the ones who brought your parents together. We saved you from hell and this is how you thank us? By destroying everything? "

He did not answer. He just tightened his grip around the sword.

"So? What are you going to do?" Her long hair tickled his neck. "You know I picked up your trail and I'll tell the others all about it."

One push of the blade and blue light spilled out of her. Her empty vessel fell lifeless to the ground.

"I know. So you'll understand that I have to protect my family."

-

When he got to the Impala, Sam and Charlie weren’t speaking. Her crying was almost hysterical now, whereas Sam was completely still and silent. They opened the doors and sat down in their seats. Sam in the passenger seat, Charlie in the back seat, from where she watched Dean in the rearview mirror as she pressed her head against the glass. She was still shaking with silent sobs.

He didn't have to ask Sam to know where they were heading. He automatically steered the Impala towards the highway.

"Aren't we going home?" Charlie asked, turning her head to the street behind them.

"It's not safe there, honey." Dean shifted the gear. "Castiel is distracting the other angels, but the faster you are back in the bunker the better."

"What about our things?"

"Maybe you should have thought about that earlier!" Dean knew that look, even though he'd rarely seen it on Sam. Most of the time he himself was the one whose helplessness turned into rage, while Sam remained patient and kind. "Before you called down all of heaven!"

"Sam, leave her alone."

"No, I won't! Don't tell me how to talk to her!"

Dean raised his hands resignedly before putting them back on the steering wheel

"And you-” Now Sam had turned back to Charlie. "What the hell were you thinking? That the angels would come and suddenly all the other kids would like you? That they'd have deep and meaningful conversations with you in Enochian? That they'd send down a cherub for some match-making, so we'd all live happily together, huh?" He laughed and almost pierced her with his index finger. "I'll tell you something. The angels are not your friends. For them you are nothing but a threat that they want to eliminate. All they want is to cut your heart out and use it for some spell. Don't you get it?"

"Dad - but I just wanted-" Whatever she wanted to say got lost in her crying. "I'm so sorry."

"Charlie was having problems with the other kids?"

Dean struggled to sound neutral. He didn’t want to pour more oil onto the fire. It did not work. Sam turned his anger onto him anyway.

"Oh, stop acting like that. You knew from the start that I wouldn't be able to do it. You made that clear from the get go."

"Look, I-"

"So what? You were right!" Sam said. "Charlie hated the school, the other kids, and our whole life here." He raised his hands. "My job was boring, my boss was an idiot, the neighbors thought we were weird and the house..." He broke off. "So yeah, you’re right, I failed. Without you and Castiel I'm useless. I can't take care of her myself. Happy now? That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

Dean tried to think of an appropriate answer. But he knew everything he could say would only make things much worse, so he kept silent. He just listened to Charlie's sobs from the back and the silence between all of them.

* * *

When they reached the bunker, it was well past midnight. At some point Charlie had fallen asleep in the back seat.

"I'll put her to bed quickly," Dean offered. Sam was still not moving. In the dim light of the garage, he could only vaguely make out his form. Just when he wondered if his brother had fallen asleep, Sam replied.

"Thanks."

"No problem. If I'm lucky she won't wake up and you can talk to Castiel about... whatever it is that went down today."

"I meant thank you for earlier. If you hadn't been there-" He paused. A shiver went through his body. "I'm such a horrible person."

"No, Sam, you're not."

"I yelled at her and said all these shitty things. She must think that I hate her."

"Hey." Their bodies found another in the dark, and they embraced. Sam's face was wet. Dean could feel his warm body and his racing heartbeat. They hadn't been this close in years. "She’ll understand, don’t worry."

"I was so scared of losing her." Sam pressed his face to Dean's shoulders. "I love her so much. I think I would die if something happened to her for real."

"Yeah," Dean said, a hand stroking over Sam’s hair. "I know that feeling."

-

He heard Sam and Castiel arguing in the hallway.

"You never told me that she could communicate with the other angels. You said her grace was still sealed off!"

Charlie was asleep while Dean carried her into his room. Her own room would have to be dusted off and needed new bedding before anyone could sleep in there again. Her face was red and puffy, and her legs were so long, they hung over his arms in the air.

"It's like if you got her a mobile phone and told me there’s no internet connection. And then I find out that she spends half her life online doing god knows what."

It was nice to have all the people he loved around him again. Knowing that they were safe.

Dean opened the door to Charlie's room.

"Keeping with your metaphor, Sam: I wasn't aware that she knew the WiFi password. I didn't know she could do that, Sam. You have to believe me, that I-"

Dean closed the door and locked out Sam' and Castiel' voices. He carefully laid Charlie onto his bed. Just when he wanted to put a blanket over her, she opened her eyes.

"I really didn't want to go to heaven," she whispered. "I just prayed to be home again."

"I know." He stroked over her cheek. "Try to get some sleep now."

"Can you go get Dad for a second?" she asked timidly.

He nodded.

When he had closed the door behind him, he realized he didn't know which father she'd meant.

The voices had died down. They were not fighting anymore, and when Dean stepped into the library, they were sitting on the couch in silence. Sam had his arms on his thighs, his face in his hands hidden behind the curtain of hair.

Castiel was rubbing circles over Sam’s back.

This feeling right there - it too had returned home.


	10. Year 10

"What is it like, having grace?"

Charlie looked up from her textbook and considered him. In addition to preparing for the SATS, they had started to incorporate books into her lessons that were intended for college freshmen. In general, Charlie had seemed interested in the contents of "Introduction to Psychology”. But today she was going on tangents every five minutes. Her thoughts were clearly somewhere else.

"You know what it's like to have grace.”

Her face grew discontent. "You know what I mean. You're just trying to avoid answering my question.”

"Yes." Castiel closed the textbook and pushed it to the side of the table. He returned her serious look. He did not like to conceal the truth from his daughter. It occurred frequently that he had to correct wrong or incomplete notions that Sam or Dean had told her, whether out of shame or just for fun, he could never quite tell. "You’re right, that is what I'm doing. It's a topic that makes me uncomfortable. ”

"Because you're afraid I'll run to Sam and tell him about it, and then you'll both get into a big fight, and then he'll run away with me again because he thinks everything will be better once we're on our own. Even though he himself hated the time away from you too.”

Castiel threw his daughter a doubtful look across the table.

"It seemed to me that he was doing fine outside the bunker.”

"No. He found it almost more unbearable than I did. He just kept trying to hype it up and act like it was great. The school and the house were horrible and I missed the bunker so much, but it's nothing compared to how much he hated it. He even said so himself afterwards. But you know, no one’s ever admitted that if it weren't for me, we'd probably still be there. Dad would never have come back by himself.”

Of course, Castiel could not approve of her methods, getting heaven involved had been a terrible mistake, but he had to admit that Charlie was probably right. He did not want to imagine Sam leaving again; he would have to make sure they all would not get separated again.He put a hand onto hers.

"I'm really sorry you had to endure all these months in a living situation you felt so confined in.”

"I know it's not your fault.” Her long fingers traced over her exercise books. It was a beautiful black booklet made from recycled leather that Sam had given her for her last birthday. "I heard you both arguing every time you were visiting. I always knew you didn't want us to leave.”

"Sam and I didn't argue every time I was with you.”

She rolled her eyes in a way that reminded him of Dean and looked uncomfortably human. Sometimes, her displays of humanity bothered him and other times it touched him. But if he considered his ambivalence towards the human species in general, this seemed consistent.

"Okay, so you didn't argue all the time. Sometimes you were having fun. Sometimes Sam was just being passive-aggressive and sometimes, when you looked at him with pleading eyes and- "

"That’s enough.”

He was rarely strict. Much more seldom than Sam. Usually it wasn't necessary or constructive. She was a very intelligent child and did not trust empty authorial gestures by nature. She only adjusted her behavior if you could make her see a good reason to do so. In most cases it didn't help much to get angry with her – although that knowledge rarely prevented Sam from doing so.

Castiel was rarely strict, but he did not like the way she seemed to see through him when it came to Sam.

"Okay." She rolled her eyes again. "This was just you distracting me anyway, so we wouldn't be having the conversation I was actually going for. Thanks, Dad. ”

He sighed.

"Despite everything, I don't know how to answer your original question. I have never been in your situation. I don't know how it feels to be you, and I can't describe how the essence of my existence feels. ”

"Why not?”

"Have you ever asked Sam to explain what it feels like to be human?”

"He keeps telling me what it means to be human all the time.”

He raised an eyebrow. "He does?”

A rumble in the kitchen announced that they were no longer alone in the bunker.

"If you can't get it to fit, then you need to - Damn it!” Dean.

"Don't look at me like that,” Sam replied. "You were the one standing in the way, not me.”

Castiel and Charlie both got up and went into the kitchen. Dean and Sam were putting down a crate of beer. They were surrounded by a lot of shopping bags.

"You were gone for quite a while,” Charlie said, went over to one of the bags, took out a bright red apple, and bit into it with a loud snap.

"Hey, you need to wash these first,” Sam said. "Besides, aren't you gonna have dinner with Dean anyway?”

"I don't think an apple is gonna ruin her appetite,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Stop complaining and help me with the other box.”

Castiel nodded towards the purchases. "Is this all for the party?”

"Party is a big word.”

"For your birthday dinner,” Castiel corrected.

"I still don't get why you're suddenly starting to celebrate your birthday.” Sam shook his head. "You never did before.”

"It was Charlie's idea.”

Charlie smiled as she continued to eat her way around the apple.

"So this is your fault?” Sam grimaced at his daughter. "Great.”

"What exactly is your problem?” Dean turned from the bag he had just cleared to Sam. His demeanor had changed. "You've been in such a crappy mood all day. If you think Garth and a few other people coming over is such a horrible idea, why don't you just say it?”

Sam furrowed his brow. "I don't mind a few people coming over.”

"If you think it's too dangerous-”

"I don't think it's too dangerous. I know you wouldn't put us in danger for some party."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "What then?"

Sam glanced briefly at Charlie, and Dean's eyes followed. "What about her?”

"Yeah, what about me?” Charlie had finished the apple and turned its core between her fingers. "Do you reckon it's gonna be too big of a burden if I find out my uncle is in fact aging? The horror.” She walked over to the trash can, opened it with a tap of her foot and dropped the apple core inside.

Sam made a sound of discontent.

"I don't get it.” Dean shook his head. "She's not even gonna be around.”

"Yeah, exactly.”

Sam looked at his own hands for a moment. The expression on his face was so pained that Castiel felt a strong urge to walk over to him and embrace him.

"Exactly? You're the one who took her to live in a whole other city, and now you think she can't bear to stand one evening somewhere else? ”

"She wasn't alone when we left. I was with her.”

"Not when she was at school. Not when you were at work.”

"Besides, back then I didn't think she’d go and call down heaven because she’s having a bad day.”

Charlie looked on the floor. Castiel walked next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. He was allowed to touch and bring her comfort when she felt down. No one minded that.

"If you want, she can stay for the party too,” Dean breathed out, evidently getting tired of this discussion. "I thought you'd not want her to be here, because – well, you know how you are. But it's fine by me. The walls are thick, she can just go to bed early and- ”

"Let's talk about this later,” Sam said.

Charlie's shoulder tensed under Castiel's hand. "When I'm not around, you mean. You can just talk right now. I'm not a little kid, you know."

"Yes,” Sam said. "That's exactly what you are.”

"I may look like I'm ten years old, and maybe I am in human years, but you know that it doesn't match my intellectual ability.”

"Even highly gifted children are children.”

Sam and Charlie both glared at each other, like a pair of cowboys waiting to see who would draw their gun first.

"As I already said,” Sam said slowly, focusing back on Dean. "We'll talk about it later.”

"Okay. Whatever.” Dean exhaled heavily. "You ready to roll, Charlie?”

"Yes, I just have to change my clothes first,” she said, wriggling out of Castiel's embrace and running into her room.

Sam watched her go, no less irritated than before. "Why does she have to change? I thought you were just going out to eat?”

Dean shrugged. "You know what girls are like.”

Sam didn't look satisfied with the answer, but he dropped the subject.

Castiel had been surprised by just how much Sam disapproved of the idea of Dean and Charlie spending a lot more time just the two of them. It had been Charlie's wish and Castiel had quickly seen that it could only be good for the bunker’s household blessing.

"When will you be back?” Sam asked.

"Don't worry, mom,” Dean patted him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna get her home before midnight.”

"Dean-"

"Just kidding. We're always just a phone call away, so don't get your boxers in a twist.”

"That is not why I was asking.” Sam tugged on his T-shirt. "I was just thinking about, well, going out myself. And I wanted to be back by the time you guys return.”

"You wanted to go outside? To what, socialize?” Dean seemed as surprised as Castiel. A grin spread over his face. "You know what? That's a great idea, actually. Hey, why don’t I make it easier for you? I’m gonna think of something fun for me and Charlie to do after dinner, so we won't be back until late, and - ” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean didn't let him interject. "Don't worry about bedtime and stuff like that, alright? She's 10, not 5. And if she can have some fun with me for a bit and you get a few more hours for yourself, it's a win-win.”

To Castiel's surprise, Sam nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Dean.”

"No need to thank me. How are you gonna spend the evening?”

"I thought about going to the cinema.”

"Wow. Really living large, huh?”

It seemed Dean wanted to add something more, another sarcastic remark perhaps, and decided against it at the last moment. He closed his mouth and patted Sam's arm.

When Charlie walked back into the kitchen, she had exchanged her dress for a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt.

"Have fun,” Castiel said, pulling her in close and kissing her forehead.

"Yes." Sam didn't sound completely convinced about the turn of events, but he pulled her in too. "Have fun."

"Come on, little one, let's go.”

As Dean turned around to leave, so did Charlie, running after him like an eager dog.

"I'm not little,” they heard her say, before their voices faded away completely.

Sam turned to the fridge and took out a small bottle of water. He leant against the kitchen counter, his long legs outstretched, looking tired and down-beaten. Castiel came to stand opposite him, not far away.

"What movie are you planning to watch?”

Sam opened the bottle, and took a long swig.

"Why?” he asked slowly, with caution in his voice. "Do you want to join?”

"Yes, I would very much like to join.”

Sam furrowed his forehead, took another sip of the water and looked at him for a long while, before he nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

It was different from watching a movie on a bed or a couch, seeing the pictures on a small TV or laptop screen. Castiel had been to a movie theater with Dean a few times before, so he thought he knew what he had to expect. Still, when Sam and him walked inside the small screening room screen, the screen's enormity surprised him. Maybe it was the emptiness of the room that made its size appear larger than it really was; there were only one young couple in the cinema beside them, who had taken their seats in the first row, and two lonesome cinema aficionados on their own. Almost all of the seats were free.

Sam aimed for the back row, where he sat down smack in the middle. Castiel followed and took the seat to his left.

The canvas was still black and the small bulbs on the side of the room were still on, its dim light throwing shadows onto Sam's face.

Sam took off his jacket and balled it up, holding it tightly under his right arm.

"What’s wrong?” Castiel asked. "Are you worried about Charlie?”

Sam shook his head, irritated by the question.

"Are you not feeling very well?”

Castiel glanced at the couple sitting in the front of the cinema, they were far enough away not to be able to hear them.

"You shouldn't be here." Sam's face had hardened.

"You asked me if I wanted to join you,” Castiel said after a moment's hesitation. It was more a question than a statement, even though he knew it was the truth.

"I know.” Sam put the jacket down on the seat next to him and ran a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have asked you.”

"Why not?"

"Because I keep imaging facing Dean and the fight that's going to break out, when he hears that you went with me."

"I don't understand what the problem is. What difference does it make whether I am accompanying you or not. Is going to the movies something particularly intimate?” Castiel wondered. "That's what you're getting at, that he'd be upset?”

"No,” Sam said. "It's not really about the cinema itself. It wouldn't be much better if we did something else together.”

Sam's statement only confused Castiel even more. "We do many things together. Dean knows that.”

"Alone,” Sam said. "Just the two of us. Without Charlie. Without having a real concrete reason besides wanting to.”

"We have often done things alone. We watched this thriller on TV last year that you found flat and gruesome. And we were-”

Sam interrupted. "That was back when I wasn't living in the bunker. That was different.”

Castiel frowned. He couldn't really figure out why the time frame made a difference, and he doubted Dean would approve of one occasion more than the other.

"You feel uncomfortable spending time alone with me, when Dean is close, but not when he's in another city?”

Even under the dim lights, he could see the skin around the tip of Sam's nose and under his eyes reddening.

"I wouldn't exactly say I'm feeling uncomfortable with you, it's rather-”

Castiel placed his hand upon Sam's hand. "Sam, you don't have to worry. You did nothing wrong."

Sam looked like he was going to argue back, but then the light went out and his face all but disappeared. The curtain in front of the screen was raised until it vanished completely. The advertising began.

Castiel left his hand where it was, very conscious of the soft, warm skin beneath his, and it took until the middle of an ad for a local Irish Pub for Sam to slip his hand out from underneath.

Castiel watched the movie with as much interest as he could muster, but throughout the whole screening he was unable to focus on anything but Sam and what he'd said and what it'd meant.

The final credits ran across the canvas.

"Listen, Cas, I-”

The lights went on, fusing everything in blinding white. Sam's expression was strangely soft, as it was before he brought people bad news.

"I'm sorry that it's always gotta be like this.”

"What do you mean?"

The only other couple had already disappeared from the room, and the other two viewers were walking out as they spoke.

"That I always push you away like this. You know why I'm doing this. I don't want to hurt you, I hope you know that.”

For a moment, Castiel considered claiming that it did not hurt him. It would be easy to claim that he didn't feel a deep pang of sadness and irritation every time he felt he was getting closer to Sam, only to get a door slammed into his face, either metaphorically or literally. It had been happening less since Sam' and Charlie's time away from the bunker. Castiel thought it might be because Sam had a guilty conscience for simply taking Charlie with him without asking, as if Castiel had no say at all.

"I just don't want you to think-” Sam's fingers clawed their way into the jacket he was holding in his lap.

"To think what?”

They were all alone in the empty screen room now. A stale and slightly burned smell penetrated the air, where dust particles danced around until they settled on Sam's skin. Castiel envied them, it was easy and consequence-free, while his own touch always seemed to unsettle Sam, even at times when he seemed to welcome it too.

"I'm not doing this because I don't want to spend time with you. And it's not that I can't appreciate what you're doing. It's more of a kind of protection - for myself?” Sam looked at him intently. Dust settled on one of his lashes, too. "I don't know if saying any of this helps, or if it's just going to make it worse, but: I just want you to know that it would be different if, well, if everything was different.”

"I don’t understand."

"If everything were different,” Sam repeated again, and let out a labored breath. "If it wasn't for Dean, and if the things that have happened wouldn't have happened.” A self-deprecating shake of his head. "On the other hand, if none of this had happened, nothing would have changed between us, so-”

"Sam.” Castiel dared to touch now and squeezed his shoulder gently. He could hear how difficult it was for him to speak, and as much as he wanted to hear what Sam had to say, he also didn't want him to feel pain.

"It's not you, Cas. That's all I wanted to say.”

Sam turned his head away abruptly, got up and threw his jacket over his shoulder, while he sped towards the big exit sign.

On their way back to the bunker, Castiel watched him from the passenger seat. Sam kept his eyes on the road, never looking over.

He wanted to ask what Sam had meant, but he was afraid of having misunderstood. If Sam never got to clarify, he could keep on living in this space of possibility and what-ifs.

When Sam finally started speaking, it wasn't what he had hoped for.

"These Dean and Charlie days still feel kind of strange.” He kept his eyes on the street. "Not because they shouldn't be spending more time together, of course.”

It was a sentence that begged for clarification, but nothing came, and Sam even seemed to slide a little further away from him in his seat.

Then Castiel's cell phone rang.

"Where the hell are you?” Dean's voice boomed through the speaker. His shaking voice left no doubt as to how serious he was.

Castiel gave Sam a quick look before answering. "Dean, what's wrong?”

"I need you here. I have to - Charlie, she is - You need to get to the bunker. Now.”

"I will be with you right away.”

Castiel hung up. He felt how much his body had reacted to the call; his vessel's heart was pounding uncomfortably.

"There's something wrong with Charlie. I will take care of it," he said, before he disappeared from the car. He didn't want to leave Sam alone, especially with this ominous-sounding message, but it was the sensible thing to hurry up and not waste time.

Charlie lay on the couch, dried tears on her red face, her hair a messy bun on top her head – like a chicken's nest, Castiel thought. Her right leg was raised onto some pillows and soaked in red. He ran the last steps to her. It took him a moment of horror before he realized that despite the blood, she was in no immediate danger.

"What happened?” he asked in Enochian. He didn't miss the look she gave Dean before she answered.

"It was my fault,” she said. "The gun just went off and I, I could feel that my grace was trying to heal me, but it just wouldn't work. I just couldn't do it.”

Castiel nodded. He knelt down beside her and put his hand over the wound. She must have noticed that he, too, was trembling.

"I stabilized her,” Dean said. "I thought about taking her to the hospital, but I thought you'd be here and it would be safer and quicker. And I didn't want her to have deal with doctors and -”

Castiel gave Dean a quick, stern look and he shut up.

"How are you feeling?” Castiel asked his daughter.

"I'm fine now,” she nodded, sitting up. Her jeans were only tatters around her legs.

"You should take a shower,” he said. "And change your clothes and throw those pants away. Your father shouldn't see you like this.”

The thought of Sam arriving seemed to disturb her. She nodded a few times.

"Are you really feeling okay?” She knew he wasn't alluding to her leg, nodded again and let Castiel hug her.

"I'm sorry,” she said, her hands tight around his neck.

"I am glad that you are fine and that you are safe.”

He took her up into his arms, and carried her towards the bath, and even though there was no medical need she let him.

She must have noticed he was avoiding Dean's eyes when they passed him. "Please don't be mad at him,” she whispered, as he let her down and led her into the bathroom. "It really wasn't his fault. It was me. I wanted to learn how to shoot outside the range. I really had to persuade him. It was all me.”

Castiel turned on the warm water. His voice was firm when he spoke next. "Take a shower now, so I can put you to bed before Sam comes home. We don’t want anger and fear to cloud his judgement.”

She nodded, wiped over her eyes, and then looked at the floor, starting to undress. She showered quickly, and once the blood had all been washed down the drain, there was nothing on her body reminiscent of what had taken place.

Castiel put her to bed, reassuring her everything would be fine in the morning, before putting two fingers to her forehead and sending her off into a deep sleep, filled with happy dreams.

Back in the library, Dean was sitting on the couch now, his hand clutching a glass of whisky. The surprising meekness in his eyes made it clear he felt guilty – yet the sight angered Castiel. And now that he knew Charlie was safe and soundly asleep, he let the anger take control.

"How could you expose her like this? What exactly happened?”

Dean looked up, not one bit surprised by his reaction. He had been bracing himself for a fight. "We were just practicing shooting. The safety was off for some reason, but I don't know how exactly the shot went off.”

Castiel looked at him incredulously. "You shot her?”

"No, she shot herself.”

"Cas." Dean put the glass down onto the ground. "I get that you're pissed at me, but really, it's not as bad as it looks right now. I always knew you could heal her. And if not, we would have gone to the hospital and they would have done it. She hadn't lost that much blood and it was a clean shot.”

"That's not the point,” Castiel said. "You can't do things like that without checking with us. You said you were going out to eat. You lied to us. You lied to me.”

"I didn't lie. We did go out to eat and I told you, we were going to do something else afterwards.”

Dean got up and walked towards him. Castiel didn't know he was going to do it until Dean stood so close that he feared he was going to try to embrace him - Castiel put up his palms and pushed him against the chest. Dean looked as surprised as he did.

"You knew you were going to practice shooting, when you told us you were going out to eat. You knew Sam wouldn't approve and so you deliberately concealed it. This is the same as a lie.”

"It's not a lie!” Now Dean looked angry too. "You already knew I was teaching her how to shoot. Don't pretend you never told Sam.”

"I never told him,” Castiel replied truthfully.

Dean frowned. "You didn't?”

"Don't you think he would have mentioned that to you if I had told him!? Don't you think he would have disagreed with your educational measures?”

"Okay. So then you didn't tell him, but you knew that I was training her and you knew I hadn't stopped. So what's with all this fake surprise now? I'm sorry that she got hurt. You know I am. But getting hurt is part of learning how to fight.”

"She does not need to learn how to shoot firearms! She's an angel!”

"Oh really? What use is that when she doesn’t have any powers? When she can't even heal herself?”

"Dean, you can't make decisions like this by yourself. You can't make these decisions for her.”

"I'm just trying to help her! Get her prepared for the real world. And what are you talking about, I'm not making decisions for her. Like you and Sam don’t do that all the time. Do you think just because I don't share as much of my gene pool with her, I don't – what? Love her as much? That I don't care about what is going to happen to her?”

"I know you love her.” Castiel reached for Dean's elbow. "And your genetics have nothing to do with the fact that I don't think it is right for you to make such big decisions by yourself. Or for you to lie to me about them.”

For a moment they looked at each other in silence.

"Where have you been?” Dean asked quietly. His breath was still quick from the excitement and the fighting.

"What does it matter where I was?”

"When I got here and you weren't there -” Dean closed his eyes for a moment, as if he felt a dizzy spell. "I thought I lost you. I thought something had happened and -”

"I'm here now.” Both of Castiel's hands were on Dean's shoulders now, working reassuring pressure into the tensely wound muscles. "It's going to be okay, we will sort it out. I agree that she has to learn to fight back. I just think this has to be done differently and without any secrecy.”

Dean opened his eyes again, looked at him for a long time. "You're not angry with me?”

"I'm dissatisfied with the decisions you made today,” he said carefully. "But I know your intentions were good.”

Dean nodded several times. His eyes were still narrowed, but the remaining muscles of his face were slowly relaxing. "I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel nodded and this time when Dean came closer, he let him pull him in close and wound his arms around his middle.

Dean pulled back a little until their faces were only inches apart. "I hate fighting with you.”

"We're not really fighting.”

Dean's hand cradled his cheek. "I know.” His thumb traced the corner of his mouth. "God, when I thought I'd lost you...” He didn't finish, he simply moved in and pressed their lips together.

When Castiel responded to the kiss, it was both out of love and the knowledge that Dean needed to clarify things in a physical way. This is how they would settle things, and once the hormones were released and did their work in strengthening their bond. Once they would hold each other in postcoital bliss, they would both feel better.

The kisses quickly became more energetic and Dean's hand moved off Castiel's hips down to the zipper of his pants. He halted, only to move the both of them towards the edge of the room, and to sandwich Castiel between himself and the stone wall.

Castiel felt the wall behind him and the warm body in front of him. The sensation was not unpleasant.

It was better if Dean got rid of his energy than if he was angry, and yet a lot of the situation felt wrong. Castiel was looking for a resolution to the anger he still felt, but he wasn't sure if he would find it in Dean's hands sliding clothes off his hips until he was bared naked.

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to stop questioning, when Dean went down to kneel before him and took him in his mouth. It shouldn't feel like an apology and Castiel wasn't sure if Dean meant as such a gesture. At the very least, it was much more pleasant than arguing, and Castiel's body responded as required. His hands wandered into Dean's hair because he knew Dean liked it and found it encouraging. He groaned softly as Dean flicked his tongue in a way that Castiel had never really understood how it functioned and why his body reacted so strongly to it - but they knew each other well, knew their bodies, and Dean was good at what he was doing.

When Castiel opened his eyes and saw him, there was no way to tell for how long Sam had been standing in the middle of the room, only a few feet away from.

They locked eyes and for the moment Castiel couldn't say anything. He couldn't even take his hands out of Dean's hair; he was just as frozen in place as Sam. How could they not have heard him arrive, when he normally recognized the soft tread of his footstep so easily.

Sam said nothing. He just looked at him with a strange, disappointed expression on his face.

Dean had not stopped, and the noises filling the room seemed noisy and vulgar at once.

"Sam,” Castiel finally managed to get out, and Dean immediately stopped. He pulled his head back and turned his questioning, incredulous eyes onto Castiel's face above.

"What?” he asked, breathless.

Castiel patted Dean's shoulder, wanting him to let go of him. "Sam, he's – he is here.”

Finally Dean understood. He got up and wiped over his mouth with the back of his hand, as Castiel hurried to pull his underpants and pants up.

"Hey Sam,” Dean said, his voice rough and his face flushed. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable.

It took a moment for Sam to speak.

"If this was the emergency you asked Cas to come here for and why both of you haven't been answering your phones, then this is a pretty bad joke.”

"No,” said Dean, his voice surprisingly calm. "This wasn't the emergency.”

"What about Charlie? Where is she?”

"She's in bed, she's sleeping. She's okay now.”

Sam's face twisted.

"There was a little accident, but she's fine. You don’t have to worry. Really nothing happened.”

"Nothing happened,” Sam's voice broke. "What do you mean, a little accident? Did you crash the car?”

"Sam,” Castiel had come up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He hoped to avoid the brothers fighting if he could explain. "Dean is right, Charlie is fine. Believe me, like you I was very worried. I'm sorry we did not answer the phone, we were preoccupied with-”

"I saw that you were preoccupied! Fuck, Cas! Do you know how much the trip here sucked for me? The kind of stuff that went through my mind - I thought the angels took her. Or someone else attacked her. And maybe you were dead too, because why else would you not answer your phone in a situation like this!” Sam shook his head. "You put her to bed and instead of letting me know that my daughter's okay, you two act like a bunch of sex-crazed teenagers!”

"That's not really any of your business,” Dean said rather coolly.

"Oh really? Charlie's none of my business now?”

"No, our sex life isn't.”

"I wish it wasn't any of my business! You could have at least went into your room and locked the doors. What if she woke up and stormed in. You obviously didn't hear me come in either. So spare me your weak excuses.” Sam turned his attention to Castiel. His expression switched from anger to worry in nanoseconds. "Is she really okay?”

"Yes, she is fine. She is going to sleep until tomorrow morning, and then we can all talk about what transpired. Right now, you're very upset, Sam, I understand but -”

"No.” Sam shook her head. "I'm not going to blame her. I just want to see that she is fine.”

"She's fine,” Dean said. Sam and Castiel both turned to him at the sound of his icy voice.

"So you were out together when I called Cas?” He asked Sam, who gritted his teeth in response.

"So?”

"Where were you?”

"How can you care about that now? I want to know what happened to Charlie!”

"I tried to teach her how to fight! Because you’re incapable of doing that yourself! Maybe because you forgot how to, after all these years of cushy parenting.”

Sam's mouth opened and closed incredulously. "You did what?”

Now Dean turned to Castiel, ignoring Sam's question. "Where were you when I called?”

"We were in the car, on the way back from the cinema.”

The answer seemed to surprise Dean. "Why?" he breathed out, the hurt look on his face made Castiel want to turn away.

"Why?” Sam laughed now. "I don't know, why do people ever go watch a movie, Dean?”

Dean ignored the comment, his face still fixed on Castiel's. "I know that Sam wanted to go, but why were you there, Cas?”

"Because I wanted to go with him.”

"You know that if you wanted to go, all you ever needed to do was ask me.”

"It wasn't a movie you would be interested in,” Castiel replied, then he added: "You were not here. When Sam asked me if I was interested in accompanying him to the movies, I answered truthfully.”

"You asked him?” Dean spun around and took a threatening step towards Sam. "You were waiting for me to be out of the house to ask him out?”

Sam's shoulders were tense. "God, Dean. Don't you realize how insane you sound? You really need help!” His eyes gleamed as they used to before he went in for a kill. "We went to the movies together, unplanned. That’s it.”

"Why didn't you answer me earlier when I asked where you were?” he asked Castiel.

Now the anger from earlier returned to Castiel in full ferocity. "Because I was busy healing my daughter! Your question about my whereabouts were secondary to her well-being.”

Dean's ragged breath filled the room. "You wouldn't have told me.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it was true. "If you hadn't let slip that you were both in the same car, when I called, you wouldn't have mentioned anything to me.”

Sam took a final step towards Dean and pressed his index finger into his chest.

"Even if that were true, why do you think we wouldn't have said anything? Because you know yourself that you are blowing things out of proportion. Don't you think we know that too? For years everything has been all about your jealousy, everything has to go your way. This is so ridiculous, Dean! And it's always my fault! Why don't you talk to Cas for once, if you can't think about anything else but his feelings for me.”

The look on Dean's face was the same he had when he was about to cut a monster's throat.

"I don't need to listen to that crap. I'm not gonna take relationship advice from you. Whatever is happening between Cas and me, it's got nothing to do with you.”

"It's got everything to do with me when you judge me according to how well your relationship is going. If you and Cas are fine, you treat me okay, and the second things are rocky – or you just feel like they are, I'm the bad guy again. Do you even see how twisted that is?”

Castiel considered interjecting, but everything he could think of would only make it worse.

"I'd love if you were right!” Sam put his hands into the air. "I'd love if you really treated me like I had nothing to do with your relationship! I mean - God, Dean! Even when I tried to get out of here and leave you all alone, you still weren't happy. What else is there even for me to do? I can stay or I can go, that's it. These are all of my options. I can't stay and change the past!”

Dean's face darkened even more. "You said you didn't leave because of me.”

Sam shook his head wearily. "I left because I couldn't take it anymore. Living like this all the time, always tiptoeing around you. Always being scared I might just use the wrong word, and trying to figure out what's going to set you off again... So you're not happy how things are? Guess what, none of us are! The amount of time and effort we all have to put in keeping your jealous rage in check stands in no proportion to anything. And you, and this – it's not good for Charlie, don't you get it? I can't have her growing up around this kind of toxic crap!” He took a step back again and shook his head and turned to Castiel. "I don't understand how you can stand it, Cas,” he said wearily, before he disappeared down the hall.

"Dean,” Castiel said softly. "Sam is upset about Charlie. He'll calm down again.”

"No. I’m glad he told me the truth for once.”

"He doesn't really think you're bad for Charlie.” Castiel reached for Dean's hand. "And you're not.”

"He's right. I shouldn't blame him for everything.”

Something in the way he said it, made Castiel cock his head in question.

"You don't trust me,” Dean continued. "And I don't trust you either.”

"Of course, I trust you.”

"No, you don't. You weren't surprised at all about the accident. Because you knew something like that would happen at some point. And Sam is right about another thing too.” Dean pulled his hand away and clenched it into a fist. "If I trusted you, I wouldn't be so scared of losing you all the time.”

"Dean-"

He didn't know what to say.

"Don't you think I get how this works between you and him? I know that as soon as Sam'd do anything that gives you even the faintest of hope – you'd go and try to -” Dean shook his head. "You wouldn't just sleep with him. You'd run away with him if he asked you to. You would leave me if he asked you to.”

Castiel looked at Dean for a long time. He took a step back.

"Is that really what you think of me?”

"Yes."

He could tell that Dean was serious by the hard expression on his face alone.

"I'm sorry that you have so little confidence in me and our relationship.”

Dean looked at him as if he expected Castiel to continue speaking.

Eventually Dean said: "If I didn't believe in us, would you think I'd have stuck this out for so long? But let's not kid ourselves. We're not happy, what's the point in denying that?”

Castiel took a step away from Dean. "Unhappiness is one thing, it is something that can be worked on. But if you think so little of me, if you think I'm with you out of some lower motives - why do you think I've shared all these years with you, if you meant so little to me?”

"That's not what I said.” Now it was Dean who reached for him, but Castiel slipped out of his grip.

"I need to check on my daughter.”

* * *

There was no reason to be surprised when he found Sam sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed. He had said he’d wanted to check on her.

"Did you knock her out?” Sam asked, not looking up to even make sure who it was. He had no illusions about Dean following him.

"She will awake well-rested in the morning. I gave her pleasant dreams.”

Sam didn't even nod. He glanced over their sleeping daughter's features once more and stood up. "We're gonna leave once she wakes up then, me and her.”

"No.”

"I don't know where we're gonna go, but it’s got to be somewhere far away. Some other state. I'm just gonna take her and drive until we're far away and she's gonna hate every second of it, and she'll resent me – but I don't care,” he said, his trembling voice revealing how much he did in fact care. "I need to do this. I shouldn’t have come back in the first place.”

"No,” Castiel repeated. He stepped towards him and took Sam's hands in his. "Don't leave again. Don't take her away from me again, please.”

Sam looked down at the space between them. "I'm sorry. You can come visit her, but -”

"Don't go. Please. Don't.” Castiel's hands wandered to his shoulders and held them in such a firm grasp, he knew it had to be painful, but Sam didn't even flinch.

If he could have kept them here by force, he would have done so.

"It's gonna be okay,” Sam said, a thin smile on his lips. "I think it's gonna be good for you too. You can salvage your relationship with Dean, and -” He wore a determined look on his face now. "If I stay any longer, I'm gonna tear us all apart. And I can't leave without her, Cas. I can't, even though she would probably be happier with the two of you.”

"Please,” Castiel pleaded once more, although he knew he had lost. There was no changing Sam's mind.

Sam considered him a moment, then he embraced him. It was such a surprising sensation that Castiel found it difficult to react at all, but eventually he pressed his face into Sam's chest. His hands lay on Sam's back, feeling the tendons and muscles under his fingers.

"Work it out between Dean and you, okay?” Sam spoke into his hair. "I need him to be happy.”


	11. Year 11

"What do I do now?"

Castiel looked at the small bowls and plates on the table with such a heartbreakingly overwhelmed expression on his face, that Sam had to smile.

"Well, it's easy. You just have to put whatever it is you want to eat into the pan," Charlie explained and pushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear, the tips just narrowly missing the bowl of Salsa.

"I have to put everything into this little pan?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and took the pan from her father's hand.

"I'll do it for you. So, let's see. We'll go with pineapple and- " She took her time to decide. "Hot peppers." Sam laughed. "And, of course, cheese."

She looked very professional as she pushed the pan into the raclette grill.

"Now you have to wait until the cheese browns."

Castiel seemed very skeptical still.

"You know that unlike people, I don't have to eat anything?"

"Yes, but you can eat." She elbowed him into his side. "And eating is fun. At least it is when you get to make raclette and besides, it's my birthday. "

Sam raised his glass to his mouth and took a sip of water. The smile still didn't want to leave his lips.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault. She hasn't got her preference for rich, greasy food from me." He put his glass down. “At least she's chosen things for you that all have a pretty intense flavor. So even you should taste more than a few molecules."

"I am very... eager to try."

Castiel's facial expression looked anything but, and rather as if he had just been told that he had won a wellness retreat in hell. Sam laughed again, then remembered something.

"Oh, I forgot the drinks in the kitchen." He pushed the chair back, got up, and then turned to his daughter. "Do you want some apple juice?"

"Can I get a coke?"

Dean had always accused him, half jokingly, of always putting on his puppy eyes if he wanted something. If that was true, then he had definitely passed that ability on to his daughter. He shook his head and then pushed the thought of Dean into the farthest corner of his heart.

"It's late, Charlie, and you can't sleep if you drink caffeine now."

"I'm eleven and I'm not a small child anymore. Besides, it's -"

"Your birthday, I know." He patted her narrow shoulders. "Alright, let's make an exception." Then he went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"How about a glass of red wine, Cas? If one of us is already having something unhealthy, we might as well."

"I don't think the alcohol would have the desired effect on me."

Sam smiled to himself while he poured the coke for Charlie and brought it to her seat. She immediately reached for it and took a sip.

"I wasn't trying to get you drunk or anything." And what _was_ it he was trying to do here, he wondered. He shrugged. “Some people just enjoy a glass of wine with a good meal. In France, for example-"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, if you're having a glass, I will take one too."

The wine glasses were in the back of the cupboard, behind the day to day dishes; they were unused. Sam rinsed them under the water to clear them of any dust. The bottle of wine he fetched from the pantry had been there for weeks, waiting for a fitting occasion. He twisted the corkscrew into the bottle neck.

When was the last time he'd uncorked a bottle of wine? It’d been years ago. Dean hated wine. He liked beer and hard liquor, and at some point Sam had automatically adapted to his taste. He'd dabbled in drinking cheap wine in college with Jessica. Dean had put an immediate stop to it when he'd fetched him under the guise of finding their father.

Now he was yet again thinking about his brother.

With a plopping sound he pulled the cork out of the bottle neck. He liked the dark, heavy aroma that rose into his nose. He was curious to hear what Cas would say. There was still so much that was new to the angel and Sam found that he liked to be around when he discovered things for the first time.

He poured the dark liquid into the glasses and returned to the table. Charlie was just about to empty the small pan onto Castiel's plate. She watched her father expectantly as he brought the fork to his mouth.

"What do you think of my speciality?"

Castiel chewed and took his time answering.

"It's fibrous."

"What?" Sam laughed again.

"The consistency of the pineapple is unusually fibrous."

Charlie shook her head and then turned to her own food.

"Here." Sam handed the wine glass to Castiel. The light of the dining room lamp broke in the liquid and made it shine ruby red. "Now we have to clink glasses."

"Is there something I have to pay special attention to?"

Castiel reached for the glass. The light broke in his eyes too.

"Well, first you have you to say what you want to toast to. In this case, that’d be our wonderful daughter Charlie Winchester, who – as hard as it is to believe – just turned 11 today.”

Charlie giggled and picked up her empty glass. "I need another glass of coke so I can toast with you."

"No, you don't. It works just as well with water."

He indicated to the bottle on the table. Charlie reluctantly poured some into her glass.

"And now you have to clink the glasses together," she explained to Castiel. "You also have to look deeply into the other person's eyes."

"What happens if you don't? Does the magic not work then?"

"It's not magic, it's just a custom. And if you don't get it right, then you have bad sex for seven years." Charlie giggled and then, when she noticed the horrified look of her two fathers, added: "What? That's what Uncle Dean said." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I wish he was here too."

"Charlie, you know, that's not possible. Your uncle - He just needs some time for himself right now."

"I know that's not why he's not here. Don't lie to me." Her voice had grown louder, but she reigned herself in. "But I don't want to argue with you about this topic on my birthday, so let's leave it for the moment."

She turned back to the raclette grill and turned over pieces of meat and vegetables that were roasting on the stone plate. It was amazing how quickly she managed to upset Sam. With short sentences, jabs, with little gestures. At same time he admired her wit and how she wouldn't ever let people fool her, especially not him.

"Ouch."

When she pulled her hand back, she knocked over a bowl of tomatoes that rolled over the table. She put her hand to her mouth.

“Let me take a look."

Castiel had been silent for so long that his voice seemed unusually deep to Sam now. Castiel put the wine glass down onto the table and went to grab his daughter's hand, but she pulled it away.

"I just burned myself on the stupid grill. It’s nothing. It’s fine now."

"Charlie, don't be silly. I can..."

"I’m fine."

"Okay, so-" Castiel looked around helplessly and then settled his gaze on Sam. "Then we should carry out the custom that you were talking about."

He picked up the glass again. Charlie reached for the water bottle to pour herself some more. Her hand wasn't even red anymore. Sam tried to not think about what that meant. Instead he pushed his glass against hers.

"To you, you little monster."

"I'm not a monster, you puny human." At least she was laughing again.

"To my daughter and her birthday,“ Castiel tried. He made it sound like a question.

"Thanks, Dad."

They clinked their glasses. Then Sam made eye contact with Castiel. He returned the smile as they clinked their glasses together.

"We're really happy that you could make it today."

"Of course. You know that I like to spend my time with the both of you."

Sam took a sip of the wine to fill the silence. Castiel did the same.

"So?" Sam asked "What does it taste like?"

Castiel cocked his head.

"Like fermented grapes?"

* * *

"Thanks for your help."

"Of course."

They stood in the kitchen, side by side in front of the sink. Sam hated to do the dishes, but he hated mess even more. With Castiel, this task was surprisingly pleasant. They understood each other without words. Sam cleaned and Castiel dried off. For tiny moments when Sam handed him the plates, their fingertips would touch.

“You know, it would have been much easier to just cook something normal. With raclette you end up with thousands of plates and bowls that you have to clean. And you can feed an entire army with the leftovers." He rolled his eyes before dipping his hands into the dish water again and taking another plate out from under the foam layer. "But Charlie asked for it and it is her birthday after all."

"Where did she hear of it?"

When Castiel took the plate, Sam held onto it for a little longer.

"I don't know. Maybe she saw it on TV or she tried it when she visited one of her rich friends from school." He shook his head. "She wouldn't have heard about it via angel radio, would she?"

"No, angels rarely swap recipes." Castiel smiled and stroked his fingers over Sam's hand. Sam let go of the plate and turned back to the sink.

"She likes her new school."

“It is not a real school. It's a foundation that’s supposed to support gifted children. You should see it. Everyone has their own fancy computer and there are only five children in Charlie's course. They set up individual programs for each child." Again he handed Castiel a plate. "But the fees are pretty hefty."

"School fees? But didn't you say it was a foundation?"

Sam laughed.

"You still have a lot to learn about people, I guess. Yeah, it is a foundation and they do accept one social case per year, but ninety percent of the schoolchildren are just smart and coincidentally happen to be rich.”

He rinsed the plate under the running water.

"And Charlie is this social case?"

Sam shook his head.

"I couldn't risk them checking up on her and going through her complete backstory, so I had to register her the regular way."

"But." Castiel wrinkled his forehead. “I don't mean this is a criticism, but you don't work. Where do you get the money from?"

Sam laughed again. It didn't sound very relaxed. "I sold a few things."

"Things?"

"Well, things from the bunker." He shrugged. "Nothing that could do any real harm. A tooth of a basilisk, a vase from the Ming Dynasty - things like that. Bella was right, there is a huge market for magical artifacts." He sighed and rinsed a plate for the second time. "I'm not really proud of it, you know? But what else was I supposed to do? I'm telling myself that it's okay because I'm doing it for Charlie. I could never earn enough by doing regular work to afford this life for her - and still take care of her at the same time." He raised his hands to the ceiling of the apartment. “This time I just wanted to get it right and it seems to be working. She likes to go to the courses, she gets along with the other children, she plays the piano and she's doing online university courses in Psychology and Astronomy that she loves." The plate almost slipped out of his wet hands." She deserves to be happy for once. The last year has been tough for all of us."

"You don't have to defend yourself." Castiel touched his arm. A trace of soapy water remained. "I am not saying you did anything wrong."

"Dean would kill me if he knew about it, which doesn't really matter because it's just one out of about a hundred things on the list of stuff he hates me for." He pulled up his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started talking about him.”

"It's okay."

"No, it's really not." Sam wiped a hand over his brow, he felt some soap running over the back of his nose and wiped it away. "I know it's been difficult for you too. The last thing I want is to meddle and make you feel bad."

"You don't make me feel bad, Sam."

They were still standing so close together that Sam could feel the warmth radiating from Castiel's body. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall - and then there was Charlie.

"Dad! Are you going to read a story to me?"

Sam sighed and wiped his hands dry on the towel.

"Go ahead." Castiel smiled. "I'll continue doing the dishes."

"Thanks."

The apartment was not big, but Sam loved its view over Seattle. Especially now at night, when the whole city was gleaming outside the window, like a chain of threaded lights.

"Dad!"

He tore himself away from the view from the hallway and opened the door to his daughter's room. Charlie was already in bed, her long dark hair star-fished on the white pillow.

"That was a great birthday. Thank you, Dad."

She gazed at the keyboard that he had given her as a gift and that had now found its place in a corner in her small room. He settled on the edge of the bed and stroked over her arm.

"I'm glad you liked it."

It seemed impossible to him that she had grown up so much already. Her room had changed too. There was less pink and no ballerinas or unicorns anymore. Next to her books, her posters of space and her laptop, there stood what Sam had dubbed the 'Dean memorial shrine'. It displayed several knives and even an angel sword Dean had given her. They were laid out in the display cabinet like treasures. She followed his gaze to the closet.

"I miss him."

Sam exhaled and moved closer to her.

"I miss him too. But that doesn't change the fact that it's better if we don't see each other right now. It's just until he's not so angry anymore."

She shook her head lightly. "You know that it wasn't his fault that I got hurt back then. I wanted-"

"Charlie, he's an adult and it was his job to take care of you, not the other way around."

“Even if I thought that was true, which I don't do - so what? He made the wrong decision once, but he makes the right ones all the other times. He's always there for me. He's promised me that he would always protect me, that he would give his life for me if he needed to. There's not a lot of people who would do something like that for others, right?"

"When did he say that to you?" Sam took another deep breath and then broke off. "It doesn't matter. This is just so typical of him. Why does he burden you with these things? When I was a kid it always scared me to hear him talk like this. As if I wanted him to die for me.”

She shrugged.

"It doesn't scare me. It makes me feel safe and loved." She curled the blanket in her hand. “But that's not really the reason why I can't see him, right? It's because Dean and Dad broke up and you all don't know how to deal with that."

"I know it must be difficult to understand right now, but when people separate after such a long time, it can be really tough on them and they -" He hesitated. "Sometimes the pain is so bad that they lash out or say things they don't really mean."

"It's not hard to understand. I'm not a child. I understand. Dad's in love with you and that's why he broke up with Dean."

"What?" For a moment he was completely speechless until he caught himself. "Where did you get that from? That's not true. Castiel did not break up with Dean, it was the other way round. And Dean only did it because he created this fantasy world in his head, where he convinced himself there was something going on between Cas and me. But there's not."

"No?" She cocked her head. "Then why does Dad spend so much time with us?"

"He is here a lot because he wants to spend time with you and he can hardly stay with Dean in the bunker. ”

"Dean doesn't live in the bunker anymore. He travels through the country. Hunting monsters and saving people."

Yes, Dean the great hero.

He pushed the anger aside, as well as the questions about how she knew where Dean was.

"Well, okay, then nobody is living in the bunker right now. It's still our legacy. We are the legacy and one day you will inherit it all.”

"If you haven't sold everything by then."

"I won't be discussing this with you anymore tonight."

Why was she so much like his brother at moments like this? He was already up when she took his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn't want to say something mean." The wave of anger that had built up in him ebbed away. "I know you did it so that I could attend the courses and I really like it here."

He leaned over to her and touched her forehead.

"Don't worry so much about other people, Charlie. It's okay to just be a kid. You deserve to be happy." She nodded. "Try to get some sleep now, okay?"

"Dad?"

"Mhm?"

"You already loved each other back then, didn't you? And your love produced me?”

How did you explain the difference between sex and love to your eleven year old child? How did you tell her that not everything in life made sense or had a deeper meaning? He didn't even attempt it. He just smiled at her.

"Sleep well. See you in the morning."

When Sam came back into the kitchen, he was surprised to see that all the dishes had already been washed and put away. Either angels had special cleaning skills, or he had been with Charlie longer than he’d thought.

Castiel was sitting on the brown sofa, leafing through a newspaper, lost in thought. Sam smiled when he saw him. He looked like he belonged there.

Sam watched him for a moment, then he poured himself another glass of wine and walked up to him.

"Do you want some more wine, too?"

Castiel smiled when he saw him coming. "No, thank you."

When Sam sat down next to him, their sides touched.

"Is Charlie asleep?"

"Not yet, but soon, I hope." Sam sighed and took another sip from the glass. "She's such a typical Winchester. She’s always missing what she doesn't have right now."

"The bunker?"

"No, Dean."

Then they were both silent. Sam could only guess what was going on behind Castiel's eyes and he didn't know if he liked it.

So he tried to get the conversation going again: "A lot has happened in the past year, hasn't it?"

"A lot has happened in the last ..." Castiel seemed to count. “Fifteen years that I've known you.”

"Yeah, I guess you could see it that way too."

Sam laughed uncomfortably, then there was silence. He took a sip from his glass.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. Something had changed. Only now that he was thinking about it, did he notice how close they were really sitting. He could see every fine wrinkle under Castiel's eyes. Their interaction had lost all of its lightness. Every word, every movement was like a step into the jungle, in which thousands of dangers lurked.

"Many things," Castiel replied just as quietly. "For example, I'm thinking about Charlie and how human she is in her behavior."

"You really think so?" Sam put the glass down. “I mean she is barely eleven and for a long time we've been at this point where I can’t teach her anything anymore. She started playing the piano six months ago and she's already playing Beethoven's fifth. That's not very humanlike.” He didn't add how much his own daughter scared him sometimes.

"I rather meant her feelings and emotions." Castiel's eyes were still on him. "Her willpower and her strong sense of justice, she's got these traits from you."

When Castiel put his hand on his arm, Sam lowered his eyes.

"So she got her musical talents from you?"

"Well, in heaven-"

The doorbell caused Castiel to stop. Sam got up automatically. He glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. Maybe someone had rung by accident.

Once again the doorbell broke the silence. It wasn't the sound they heard when someone stood in front of the building - someone stood right in front of their apartment. Sam looked at the clock again, as if that might explain something to him. With quick steps, he was at the front door and looked through the door spy.

"Dean?" He opened the door a crack, then - noticing how strange that must have come off - he removed the chain and opened the door completely. "What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed to say Happy Birthday to my niece?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

He looked bad, Sam thought. Old. His face was pale and puffy and the shadow under his eyes was so deep that he wondered when his brother had last slept.

"I just drove ten hours straight to get here, so let me in."

Dean's foot jerked forward, blocking the gap between the door and frame. The air smelled sour.

"Are you drunk?"

It all fit, from Dean's slurred pronunciation to the smell.

Dean curled his lips.

"I really don't need any life tips from my brother living out his weird middle class fetish. I'm just here because I want to give Charlie her present."

"She's asleep and you're drunk. You can either leave it here and I'll give it to her tomorrow, or you'll come back another time when you're sober." He looked down at Dean, at the dried blood on his jeans. "And without half of someone else sticking to you."

"Are you serious? You really want to keep Charlie from me?" Dean shifted his weight and tried to push the door open. Sam blocked his way.

"Is everything okay? Who is it?"

When Dean's and Castiel's gazes met with the force of storm clouds, Dean's eyes first widened in surprise and then narrowed in anger. Castiel looked down at the floor.

"Cas, of course. Why am I even surprised that you're here when I'm not even allowed to come in?" He turned his head to Sam, a sneer on his face. "Did I just interrupt the two of you in the middle of something? Don't stop on my account."

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but with a single look Sam sent him back into the kitchen. Then he rubbed the palms of his hands over his face.

"I know it doesn't even matter what I'm going to say, so I won't repeat it all again. So here's something else: You're the one who broke up with Cas and you've made it pretty clear that you think I'm the only one to blame for that. So, even if you had disturbed us in the middle of whatever - what is it to you? You ended it, Dean. You did that yourself. He can do whatever he wants with whoever and he doesn't owe you shit."

Dean lunged at him and at first Sam thought he had really gone too far and he was going to feel Dean's fist in his face. That they would fight in the hallway of an apartment building like in a drunken brawl, but then his brother's hand only bumped into his chest half-heartedly.

"I want to see Charlie!"

"No."

For a moment, they faced each other like predators waiting for a silent signal to attack.

"I can't believe what a smug hypocrite you've become, Sam." At least Dean was no longer trying to shove the door open. "So now I'm the bad influence and you're the amazing dad, huh?" Dean laughed. "You didn't even want her! First you tried to abort her and then you wanted to give her into the hands of strangers. And did you forget about the first weeks and the neglect?" He spit his words into Sam's face with contempt. "You wouldn't even have kept her if it wasn't for me! I was the one who built her bed! I was the one who drove her over the highway for hours at night, when she wouldn't fall asleep. That was all me and now you're trying to keep her from me, just because you and Cas have decided to erase me from this family?!”

Now he looked just as sad as he was angry and a part of Sam wanted to pull him in and hug him, but then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Dean had seen it too.

"I didn't know she was listening, Sam. You gotta believe me."

His heart seemed to skip a beat. "Just go,” Sam said and then he slammed the door into Dean's face and ran after Charlie.

* * *

"She didn't want to talk to me. She wouldn't even open the door."

"Don’t worry." Castiel put his arms around Sam's shoulder. “She'll calm down again. She is wise and clear-sighted. In time, she will be able to assess the situation correctly."

Sam just shook his head before he accepted the offered shoulder and buried his face in Castiel's neck. "God damn it."

The fact that Castiel stroked over his back only strengthened the urge to cry.

"I'm sorry, you're so sad."

"I'm not sad. I'm angry."

He pressed two fingers into the bridge of his nose, his face still nestled in Castiel's neck. He could feel Castiel's pulse, his irregular heartbeat, and felt his exhale in his hair before he spoke again.

"Anger is-"

Whatever Castiel had wanted to say, he never got to say it. Sam kissed him with such force and intensity as if he was fighting monsters. Castiel's eyes widened in surprise before he answered the kiss.

Later, Sam wouldn't be able to fully remember at what point they had left the couch and made their way back into the bedroom, where he at least thought to lock the door behind them. How they had managed to come apart for long enough to change rooms, when every second their bodies didn't touch had almost physically hurt.

It was nothing like it had been a decade ago; they were not the same people now. And even though Sam knew he acted out of impulse and that the glasses of wine had lowered his inhibitions – he was not drunk and he knew what he was doing.

They didn't speak during, not even each other's names. Once Sam had opened the floodgates, there was no turning back and although Sam half-expected him to, Castiel never wavered, never asked if he was sure. Sam was glad for it.

-

"You seem troubled." Castiel stroked over his bare shoulder. "If you're worried that you might be pregnant again. I can assure you-"

"What? No!"

Sam sat up in bed and shook his head. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind once - as if Charlie had just popped into their lives from thin air. As if they hadn't been here before, naked and postcoital in bed together. He hadn't even thought of protection once. The human mind was amazing at repressing certain thoughts for a short time of amount – but now the guilt and the worry about it all hit even harder.

"What is it then?"

Castiel was still stroking over his skin with soft fingers and for a moment the thought of having another child didn't seem so bad. There'd be something else connecting him to Castiel, something that was small, helpless and dependent on him and that could give meaning to his sad existence for at least a few years. He wanted to laugh at himself: another child was the last thing he'd ever need.

"This was really nice." He forced the corners of his mouth into a smile. "I mean, I wasn't with anyone in a long time and that was -" He shook his head. It had been good, but to act like he'd be able to separate the physical from the emotional this time would be such an obvious lie. "What I mean to say is: I hope you know that I like you and that it wasn't just a spur of the moment thing to me."

“But?"

Castiel's blue eyes were still looking straight into him. There was still no reproach in his voice.

"Why do you think there's going to be a but?"

"In my experience, these kinds of declarations always end with a but, followed by a list of reasons why one oughtn't continue."

Sam turned away to the side. "It's difficult to explain."

"Please try."

"I've spent all these years telling Dean that there's nothing going on between us and that he's just being paranoid for no good reason - and now I went and slept with you, just because I was angry."

"As you said earlier: you are free to make your own decisions, just like I am. Dean was the one who broke up with me. I didn't want to give up my relationship with him.”

Sam thought that he had never seen so many emotions on Castiel's face at once. It hurt to speak again: "He still loves you. You know that, right?"

"That would not make any sense. If he loved me, why would he behave so paradoxically?”

"Because that's what people are like, Castiel." He swung his legs out of bed. "And you still love him too, don't you?"

It took a moment until Castiel replied.

"I will always love him, for as long as I shall exist.”

Something inside Sam contracted sharply, even though it has been exactly what he'd expected to hear.

"But I love you too, Sam. I have loved you for so many years."

Now Castiel looked at him so pleadingly that Sam didn't dare get up from the bed.

"It doesn't work like this, Cas. Whatever it is you want from me, or whatever I might want us to be - it won't work. We can't be together. Dean is always going to be in the room with us too."

Sam wasn't sure if Castiel really understood. He wore such a puzzled expression that Sam was afraid he might look under the bed to see if Dean was hiding there.

"And your relationship with Dean failed because I was always there," Sam said. "No matter how bad it gets between him and me, no matter how much I might try to get away from him - we will always be like this." He interlaced the fingers of both his hands. "Like Siamese twins who only share one heart or something. I can't get rid of Dean. And I know he can't get away from me either. And you - you still want to be with him, don't you?"

"I wish I could have both of you in my life, yes."

Sam was surprised by the deep and all-encompassing sadness that suddenly flooded him. It had all been too much for a single day and he felt like his nerves had been rubbed raw. He had to get out of here. He had to calm down and start to think clearly again. He stood up. Castiel's eyes clouded over his fear.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just heading to the bathroom." Half out of the door, he turned to Castiel once more. "You know what's really idiotic about all of this?" He tried to make his voice as firm as possible. "I can't even continue pretending that there's nothing between us now. That I don't have feelings for you. I can't lie to Dean and I can't lie to myself any longer either.”

Sam turned and closed the door behind him.

* * *

He couldn't tell how long he had been standing in the glaring bathroom light, staring at his reflection in the mirror, when his cell phone brought him back to the here and now.

He had lost his feelings of time, but he knew it had to be early in the morning already. There was only one person who could be calling him right now. The person he had thrown out of the apartment just hours ago. Whose love of his life he'd just slept with because he happened to be – No. He pushed the thought away. A vague admittance of feelings was one thing, but Sam wasn't going to act like what he had with Castiel was anything like the bond that existed between Castiel and Dean.

Still undressed, he ran back to the bedroom. He picked up the cell phone from the bedside table. Castiel followed him with his eyes. He had stayed exactly as Sam had left him.

The number on the display wasn't Dean's. Maybe he was calling from a phone booth, or someone had dialed the wrong number.

"Hello?” He made no effort to hide his annoyance, but he became more and more quiet within the short conversation.

"Who was it?" Castiel asked after Sam had hung up. Even though it was so late, the city still threw its flickering light into the window.

"The hospital." He tried to control the trembling of his voice and hand. "I'm his emergency contact and- " He turned to Castiel. "Dean's had a serious accident. They are operating on him right now." He couldn't keep calm. "I shouldn't have sent him away. I knew he was too drunk to drive. Why did I-”

Castiel said nothing. He simply stood up and took him into his arms.

Sam couldn't help thinking: When he loved someone, people got hurt, people died.

And yet here he was, hugging back, holding on tightly.


	12. Year 12

The sun shone brightly through the dusty windows of the Impala. The first notes of “Good Times, Bad Times” resounded through the car. Dean turned the volume up even higher and started singing along.

He looked beside him at the passenger seat. Charlie had put her legs up onto the dashboard. Generally, he was not okay with people treating Baby with so little respect, but he just couldn't tell her off. He was much too happy to have her with him, sitting there tapping her fingers on her thighs to the beat of the music.

It was a small miracle that this weekend trip had come about at all. And now, it was already Sunday again. His neck tightened as he wondered when he would be able to see her next. They tried to speak on the phone every day. If that didn't work out, he would send her at least a few messages from wherever he was. She always wanted to know every little detail of all his hunts.

He was still looking at her. He hadn't seen enough of her in the past two years, and he was trying to soak up as much of her as he could before they said goodbye. She already looked so much like a teenager, but it felt like he'd carried her in his arms to make her fall asleep just minutes ago.

She pushed her dark long hair behind her ear. The way she sang along to Led Zeppelin, like it was second nature, made him feel something strange. It was a strong emotional mix of instinctive protectiveness and painful love that he hadn't felt in a long time. The last time he had felt it, Sam had been much younger than he was now. It seemed a lifetime ago, back when it still had felt like he'd had a younger brother. Whenever Dean thought of what had become of them, he felt a little sick and paralyzed – but also still incredulous. Like someone was playing a sick joke on him.

But he knew it was all too real, and he also knew that he was partly to blame himself. But what good did that do now? It was too late to fix things now. You couldn't recover from that complete lack of trust on both sides.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Charlie looked away in an uncharacteristic burst of shyness.

Sam and him had agreed that he would bring her back in the morning. It was now three in the afternoon. He knew he was driving slowly on purpose.

He didn't want to be alone again. He didn't just want to hear her laugh on the phone.

"I don't want to go home," she said. "Can't we just keep driving for a little while?”

"We're running late anyway."

"I know.” She tapped her fingers against her bony knees now. “Dad's been writing me all kinds of messages."

"He has?" He cleared his throat. He'd been trying very hard to be as diplomatic as possible.

"Yeah, but it's fine. I told him we were on our way and that everything was okay, just bad traffic. And that he shouldn't get his boxers in a twist."

Dean snorted. "You wrote that?"

“Sure.”

He smiled a little.

"It's true. He's always on my case even though I'm, like, the perfect child." She rubbed her hands over her black jeans. "He always treats me like I'm a baby when I'm almost 13."

"Yeah, man, 13. That's practically ancient."

She slapped him lightly against the shoulder. Then her face grew grim again. "And he always pretends like I'm just human and totally unprotected." Her voice took on a slightly melancholic note. “He acts like I'm gonna die the second I bump my head or something. It's so dumb - he knows I can heal myself in seconds anyway. My grace can't help it."

"Your grace?" They had talked a lot over the three days. About music, movies, monsters, angels, hunting and everything in between - but very little about things that affected their actual lives. "I thought that was still sealed off?"

She looked a little hesitant. "I don't know."

"What do you mean? How can you not know?"'

"Cause I just don't know! It's not like they tell me anything and I didn't get a manual either."

Dean just kept looking at her, instead of focusing on the street.

“Cas didn't do anything, if that's what you think. He said it's up to me. But Sam claims that I have to grow up first, before I can make such important decisions. Like things are suddenly going to be so different in five years.”

He lowered the volume.

"How can your grace heal you if nothing's been changed? It definitely didn't used to do that.”

It was clear they were both thinking of the shooting accident that had, more or less, led to the situation they were in right now.

"I don't get it myself. I know it's still sealed off. I mean, I feel there's something inside me that's trying to, like, connect with me? But sometimes I also feel like some of it partially runs out? I don't do it on purpose. It just happens. Like I’m a milk carton that keeps leaking.” She pressed her pale lips together. "Like when you were in the hospital last year. If Cas hadn't been there, I know I would have been able to save you too.”

He tried not to react too shocked.

“How do you know that?”

“I just felt it. I was so desperate and so afraid for you. Sam didn't want to take me to the hospital at first, but thankfully Cas said I could. Well, yeah, anyway - I felt it then. I could have saved you. Easily. Because it was so important to me that you survive.”

He didn't know what to say. He put his hand briefly on her knee.

"I'm sorry. I should never have put you in a situation like this."

"You? How is any of this your fault?" She shook her head firmly. "Sam was the one who sent you away.”

"Yes, but the things I said that night. I was so wasted."

He remembered the fight and the door slammed in his face. The absolute anger he'd felt towards Sam. Castiel's head turning away from him. How certain he'd been then that he had been right. That it had unfolded exactly like he'd feared: The second he'd split up with Cas, the son of a bitch had started actively pursuing Sam, and he’d been doing it on the sly all the time before.

He remembered the roaring Impala, the image of his brother and Castiel entwined burnt in his retina. His flask rolling off the seat, reaching for it. The next thing he knew, he'd woken up in a hospital bed to Castiel holding his hand. It'd been the last time he saw him.

Charlie turned to him. "I was glad you were there that night. I was so happy you drove all the way just to see me." A furrow formed on her forehead. “Besides, you only told the truth. If Sam can't stand hearing that, it doesn’t give him the right to send you away. ”

"You know he loves you, don't you?"

She snorted. "Yeah, sure he does."

"Charlie."

"Yeah. I know."

It didn't sound like she meant it.

They had reached the right house. Dean parked the car and looked up the building. He would never get used to this: Sam living in Seattle with his daughter. Dean wasn't sure whether Castiel was actually living with them too or just permanently visiting.

"Come inside for a bit." Charlie turned her head towards him and looked at him imploringly. "Please. Please come inside just for a second."

The desperation in her voice broke his heart.

"Sweety. I'm pretty sure Sam wouldn't be a big fan of me just waltzing in there."

"Even if he might say he doesn't want you there, I know he really does." She ran a finger over a hole in her jeans. "Besides, it doesn't matter what he thinks anyway, because I want you to come with me."

"Charlie."

"Dean." The blue eyes looking back at him were too smart and too grown up. "I don't want to live with him anymore. I just wanted to stay with you."

He leant forward and turned the music off.

"I thought you liked it here. I thought you liked your school."

"School's okay. But I don't need it. I can learn by myself just as well. And I hate that so much money is put into something that I won't end up needing it anyway. No matter what I choose. Whether I go off to college or end up in heaven."

"Okay, but school aside: Why would you want to leave?"

"Because I like you better, okay?" She swung her feet off the dashboard. "Because it's more fun with you and you actually take me seriously."

He tried not to show how good it felt to hear her say these things.

"You can't do that, Charlie. You know that. You can't come live with me."

“Why not?” She didn't sound defiant, just irritated.

"You know what I do. I am a hunter. It's too dangerous, you've seen it yourself when-"

"I'm stronger than you," she said.

"I don't even have a home, Charlie."

"So what - you think I can't sleep in motels or in the car?"

"This is really not the right life for a kid."

"Well that's great then, seeing how I'm not a kid. And anyway, you've always lived like this too, haven't you?”

And look how that turned out, he thought. He definitely wanted a better life for her than whatever this was.

Her eyes never left his. “And you'd protect me. And I'd never cry or give you any kind of trouble. I am quiet. I’d shut up when you’re annoyed or tired. I promise. I wouldn't bother you."

He squeezed her shoulder. “I know you wouldn't annoy me. That's not what this is about. I would love to have you with me."

"What’s the problem then?” Now there was a trace of defiance in her voice after all.

"Your parents for one thing."

"I don't care. This is about me. And I want to be with you."

"And what about Sam?"

"He wouldn’t miss me,” she murmured. “And he’s got Dad.”

Dean felt a little fuzzy for a moment. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. It shouldn't hurt to hear these words. She seemed to sense his uneasiness.

"I mean, they can keep each other company and he can heal him just as well. He doesn't need me for that kind of stuff." The same pleading look from before. "Please, just come in for just one second. Don't leave me hanging like this. I don't want to be alone in there."

* * *

Sam seemed tired when he opened the door, but otherwise he looked well. His hair was fairly neat even though it reached his shoulders; his T-shirt and jeans looked fairly new, and he looked healthier than Dean had felt in decades.

"Hey!" Sam gave Charlie a quick look, before turning back to his brother in surprise. "Dean.” His hand gripped the door frame nervously. “I didn't expect to see you.”

"Yeah, well.” Dean cleared his throat, and nodded at Charlie. "This one didn't really leave me much of a choice. Sorry we're a little later than I said we'd be."

“That's okay.” Sam licked over his lips. Even his teeth looked whiter now – but that couldn't be true. "Charlie already told me you're running late."

"Yes, she said she'd let you know.”

Sam stood still in the doorway. "Do you like to come in for a bit?" he asked after a pause that lasted far too long.

"I don't want to be any trouble."

"You're not." Sam stepped aside and let them both in. "Did you two have fun?"

When Charlie didn't reply, Dean did. "Yeah, lots of fun. It was great." He tousled Charlie's hair. "We had fun, right?"

She nodded, but didn’t look at either of them. Her eyes flitted around, gazing at nothing in particular.

"She didn't give you too much trouble?" Sam asked.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'll go put my things in my room," she announced, and disappeared down the hall.

Dean felt pretty lost, suddenly alone with Sam, without a buffer.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"It’s going well. And you? How are you doing?"

"Same." Dean ran a quick hand over his mouth. "The weekend with Charlie was great."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah."

Dean could just about stop him from tapping his feet. This was torture. Having to stare at Sam was the worst part, but he couldn’t look away.

"Um." Sam turned around, hesitating. At least he didn't seem to feel comfortable either. "Do you maybe want a cup of coffee or something?"

"Yeah, sure. Okay."

"Okay." Sam breathed out in relief and turned around.

Dean followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table. He'd never gotten this far into the apartment before. It was clean and more spacious than he'd expected it to be.

"So, how did you spend your childfree weekend?"

Sam shrugged as he poured water into the coffee machine.

"I didn’t really get around to doing much. I tried not to worry too much about Charlie."

"I took care of her just fine."

The sentence came out wrong, a few aggression levels above the one he'd intended.

Sam turned to him in surprise. "Yeah. I know. I didn't mean that at all." He reached for two cups.

"Charlie wanted me to come up with her," Dean said. "But if you want me to leave again, it's fine. I really didn't want to bother you."

"Dean, no. I'm-” Sam rubbed over his forehead as if he had a tension headache. "I'm glad you're here. I really am."

"You sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure."

The coffee was ready. Sam put one of the cups down in front of Dean and sat down in the chair opposite him.

They were silent.

Sam stirred his coffee for a long time.

"Listen," Dean said, just as Sam started: "Dean, I-"

They smiled apologetically.

"I've been thinking a lot over the weekend," Sam said, then paused again while stirring the coffee until a small current appeared. "I don't want it to be like this between us. The last two years-” Sam did his headache-forehead rubbing again. "The last two years have been really really shitty."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"I don't know if we can fix things. But I'd want to try."

Dean looked down into his black coffee.

"But even if I didn't want to," Sam said. "Even if I didn't miss you like hell. Charlie wants to be in your life, and she should be able to see you, so-"

"She told me she wants to move in with me."

Dean wasn't sure why he was bringing this up now.

"Really? Huh."

"You don't sound very surprised."

"No. To be honest, I'm not. She's not feeling very charitable towards me."

"And that's the only reason she wants to be with me?"

"No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I know she's very attached to you."

Attached. Like Dean was a pet.

A key turned in the lock of the apartment door. Dean turned towards the hall, and when he heard the footsteps moving toward the kitchen, he'd already guessed who it was.

"Sam?" He heard Castiel's voice. "Is Charlie back?"

Sam scrambled up from the table and opened his mouth - then he seemed to hesitate. He took a few steps towards the door, and waited for Castiel to appear in the kitchen.

"Cas." He pronounced his name much too gently. "Yeah, Charlie's back, she's in her room."

"Dean." His stomach contracted when Castiel looked at him in surprise. He hadn't seen him in over a year and now they were staring at each other like two spooked deer.

Castiel hadn't changed one bit.

"Hey, Cas." He tried not to show his unease, and the greeting came out rough and a little hostile, but Castiel still smiled in response.

"It is so very good to see you."

"Uh," said Sam, who was still standing in the room, a hand's breadth from Castiel and now looked at Dean with complete uncertainty. "Um.” It was clear how hard he was trying to think of something appropriate to say. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Dinner? Isn't it a little early for that?"

"Well, we'd still have to cook."

"You cook?"

Sam and Castiel exchanged quick looks.

They cooked together, for God's sake.

"Okay," Dean said quickly before the offer could be withdrawn. After all, he had promised Charlie he’d stay for a moment. Even though his goodwill started to wane a little, since she hadn't come out of her room once and let Dean do all the work.

"You sure?" The smile on Sam's lips was uncertain.

"Of course. Why not? Gotta eat something anyway."

There were a hundred good reasons why not. One was just looking right at him.

As far as it was possible, Dean had accepted that he wasn't over Castiel in the least and that he would never be. There were people who stayed in your life forever, no matter how far away or not. But it was one thing to have him on his mind when he wasn’t there, and a whole nother thing to sit across from him.

It would have been too simple to say that he regretted breaking up with Castiel. In his head he had repeated the scene so many times. And the truth was: he hadn't really meant to break up with Castiel in the first place. Not permanently anyway. He had never expected it to stick. He'd not really thought that Castiel would just accept the finality of it and would leave Dean be. And instead spend his time with Sam in Seattle.

He felt sick again, and got up from the table. "I've got to go to the bathroom real quick. It was a long drive.”

"Sure," Sam said. “It's just down the hall. Do you need me to show-"

"Thanks. I think I’ll find a damn bathroom by myself."

He could hear Sam and Castiel muttering as soon as he stepped into the hallway.

In the bathroom, he rinsed his mouth and tried to control his pounding heart. If being alone with Sam had been unnerving, adding Castiel to the mix didn’t exactly make it easier. He could have used a drink just now. But he didn’t want to ask Sam for one, not when he was trying to make a good impression.

This was about Charlie, damn it. Charlie was what was important here. Not him. Not his feelings. Not the fact that he would never get over the fact that he had let the love of his life slip away so easily.

He set the water as cold as possible and let some of it run over his forehead.

He left the bathroom as quietly as possible. He didn't want to eavesdrop when he stepped into the hall. He didn't want to watch them either.

But he also didn't want to interrupt them and create another uncomfortable situation - Who was he kidding? Everything about this was uncomfortable either way.

"I didn't know he was going to come up." Sam looked unsettled, his face twisting as if it couldn’t decide which feeling to settle on.

"Are you glad he's here?" Castiel sounded worried, soft and caring, and unashamedly so.

"Yes? I think so. I don't know - You know I always mean to talk to him anyway. I do want to sort it all out, it's just-"

Castiel put his arms around him, pulled Sam's face towards his and put his forehead to his.

"Sam, I know this is hard for you."

"What about you?" Sam asked, so quietly that Dean almost didn't catch it. He was imaging the tone in Sam's voice. "Are you glad to see him?"

Dean turned around then. He didn't want to hear the answer. He couldn't be listening to this.

He didn't knock on Charlie's room; he simply stormed in.

She stood in front of her closet and rummaged through it.

"I'm staying for dinner," he announced and shut the door behind him.

She only turned to him briefly. "Lucky you. It's Sunday, so you'll actually get something to eat that doesn't totally suck. Probably pizza or something."

"And what? You only get salads on Wednesdays?"

"Yeah, something like that."

He looked around the room and then sat down on her desk chair.

"Cas is here."

"Yeah, I heard him come in."

"Aren’t you gonna say hello to him?"

"Why? I'll see him in a second anyway."

Dean hesitated for a moment. "Does he live here?"

"Who? Dad?"

She had to know who he was talking about.

"Yeah, does Cas live here?"

She pulled a face like she didn't know. “Sometimes he's not here. I mean, he doesn't sleep so -" She looked at him with a great deal of pity in her eyes.

"He and Sam-" He halted. It was none of his business. But more than that, it wasn't something he should be discussing with Charlie. Not that there was anyone else he could talk about it either.

"What?" She puckered her nose. "You wanna know if they're a couple?"

He shrugged.

"Beats me."

"You don't know?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Haven't they talked to you about it?"

"They always treat me like I'm 5, so what do you think?"

She dropped the T-shirt she was holding onto the floor and sat down on the bed across from him.

"They don't, like, make out in front of me, if that's what you're asking."

He didn't exactly know what he was asking, but it hadn't been that.

“I shouldn't have asked you at all, I'm sorry."

“Why not?" She pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged across from him. "Don't you think I'm curious to know if my parents are together or not."

"Sure, but -"

"I think apart from them, we are the two people with the most right to know."

“It’s got nothing to do with me."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah right. You still love him, don't you?"

He hesitated too long.

"You broke up with him because of them, didn't you? I think then the two should at least own up to it. The way they are right now... it's just kind of ridiculous." She shook her head. "He takes Cas away from you and then he acts like nothing's happened? Not like that's the only thing I don't get about Sam. He always makes me so, ugh, so angry."

It was one of her favourite topics, how little she got along with Sam.

"What?" she asked, probably irritated by the look on Dean's face. “You don't know what he's like! He doesn't respect me, he doesn't accept my opinion. He always wants to boss me around, change me, and - hey, why are you smiling? Do you think that's funny? ”

He hadn't meant to smile.

"Sorry, no, it's not funny. There's just... If you knew how much you sound like him right now. You know, he and our father, well, they didn't always get along so well.”

She grew calmer at once.

"Yeah, Cas told me about that once."

"He told you about Sam's childhood?”

This had to stop. These simple things hurt too much.

“About you too,” she said. “He told me about how you lived before he met you. Like, your origin story."

There was a knock on the door, and a second later Castiel's face appeared in the doorframe. "Are you both okay with pizza for dinner?"

Dean avoided looking Castiel in the eye. "Sure."

"Would you like to help us choose the toppings?"

Dean glanced at Charlie, who shook her head. "No, you both know what I like."

"Dean?"

Now he had to look directly at Castiel.

"I don't care about the topping either, Cas."

"Okay, then." Castiel stayed in the door for a moment. He was obviously fighting with himself. "Could I talk to you for a moment, Dean?" he finally managed to ask.

The thought of being alone with Castiel filled him with dread, but he nodded.

"Sure." He got up and glanced at Charlie, who smiled back in sympathy. Great, being pitied by a preteen.

He shut the door behind him and found him face to face with Castiel. The hallway was narrow, but not so narrow that he needed to stand quite so close.

Dean missed him every day. But missing him from a distance was different than having him right in front of him and not being able to touch him.

"Can we speak?" Castiel asked.

"Sure, yeah. I thought that's what we're doing."

He followed Castiel into the next room, where he closed the door.

It took him a moment to realize that they were in Sam's bedroom. The bed was neat, just as it had always been in the bunker, and the rest of the room was sparsely furnished. Everything he saw looked like it could belong to Sam, nothing indicated someone else staying here.

"So, what’s up, Cas?"

His attempt at sounding casual didn't even fool himself.

"I'm glad you're here," Castiel said.

"Okay."

"Dean, I -" Castiel reached for one of his hands. "It's terrible how everything fell apart."

Dean folded his arms in front of his chest.

"I am very happy that you and Sam have managed to establish a little contact with each other again over the past few months and have been cordial with each other. Charlie misses you a lot, and I'm very happy that she gets to have you in her life again."

The muscles in Dean's cheek twitched.

"Well yeah. I’m doing this for her. I’m glad Sam gave his okay for the weekend though. I honestly didn't expect him to."

"He misses you." Castiel put his hand on top Dean’s elbow. "And so do I."

Dean pressed his lips together. He didn't trust himself not to say the wrong thing once he opened his mouth.

"I want you in my life," Castiel went on. "Sam also wants you in his life. Do you want this too?"

Dean made a non-committal 'mhm' sound.

Castiel cocked his head. He was still touching Dean’s arm.

"I definitely want to spend as much time with Charlie as you guys will let me," Dean said. "And I don't feel like fighting with any of you." He shoved Castiel's hand away. "So, yeah, I guess, I want us all to get along. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I now?"

"I’m glad." Castiel nodded. “Do you mind if I ask you a follow up question?"

"Shoot."

"I know you've made your opinion very clear to me, but I just have to ask once more, face to face: You have no interest in resuming a romantic relationship with me at any point, do you?"

Dean stared at Castiel.

"Are you asking me if I want to be with you again? Are you joking? We haven't spoken a word in months and the conversations we had before that -" The drunk calls Dean had made could hardly be called real conversations. “You never got in touch, and now I just happen to be here and you spring something like that on me?"

"You told me to not contact you. You said you didn't want to hear from me."

"Of course I said that! That doesn't mean I meant it!"

Castiel frowned. "But how was I supposed to know that?"

Dean laughed. "God damn it, Cas!" He stepped away from him and went to the window.

"You cursed me in your prayers," Castiel said. Dean couldn’t help noticing how sad he sounded. "In the last message you left on my mailbox you-"

"Oh god," Dean murmured, resting his forehead on the cold glass. He didn't want to be reminded.

"You told me I'd ruined your life. You never wanted to see me again and I should never show my face again. You said you hated me." Castiel had stepped up to him. "Is that true?"

Dean turned around and stood almost nose to nose with him. He inhaled sharply.

"I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"No. I don't hate you."

Castiel slowly stepped closer, until he pressed his face against shoulder. Dean stayed limp.

"Dean," he murmured. "I miss you every day. The thought that I'd ruined your life weighed heavy on me, and there is little that would make me as happy as if you made me part of your life again."

"I don't know if that’s possible."

Then he fell silent.

Castiel embraced him and held him so tightly that Dean gave in. It was no conscious choice when he found himself stroking over Castiel's back.

"I'm very glad you don't hate me."

Castiel slowly pulled out of the embrace, his hands paused on Dean's side. His face was so close. Dean touched the side of it.

"I could never really hate you. Not just at least."

There was a knock on the door. Of course there was a fucking knock on the door.

"Oh yes, of course," Castiel said and pulled away completely. "Dinner."

Dean wasn't sure who'd knocked on the door. When they entered the kitchen, both Sam and Charlie were already sitting at the table.

"I hope you don’t think it tastes too healthy," Sam said. Dean could tell he was avoiding his eyes.

"Healthy?"

"I made the dough this morning, it’s partly whole wheat."

It was strange to hear Sam speak like this. As if he had done nothing else in his life other than playing the house and handing out cooking tips.

The pizza tasted good, despite Sam’s warnings. Nothing a generous serving of olive oil and salt couldn't fix.

The table was a little small for four people, but they made it work. The conversations were tense, but not as bad as Dean had feared.

Sam wanted to know everything about their weekend, and as Charlie’s mood had improved, she became rather talkative.

Dean kept casting looks at Castiel. He was acutely aware he'd never really answered his question. The truth was easy enough, but Dean didn’t really trust the truth to work in his favor. He shouldn't be taking Castiel back, not like this. He knew it. And yet, he thought, if they’d spend any minute longer in that bedroom together, who knows what would have happened. It was hard to concentrate on anything else.

After they'd finished the pizza, Charlie threw a meaningful glance at Dean. "You're really lucky it's a Sunday. It's the only day we get dessert."

"Oh god, poor you. Sam's a real monster, huh?"

"You bet."

"I heard that," Sam said, but he sounded more amused than anything else.

The ice cream tasted pretty good, but Dean was getting more restless. It was strange to spend so much time here after all these months. After all the unsaid things between them and acting like this was normal.

"Don't you still have homework you need to get done for tomorrow?" Sam asked, prompting Charlie to roll her eyes at him. She did that a lot, Dean has noticed. It almost could make you feel bad for Sam a little.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It only takes half an hour anyway. Tops."

"Well great, then you'll be done really quickly."

"Are you serious?" She crossed her arms. "Dean is visiting for the first time ever and you're sending me to my room?"

"You just spent a whole weekend with him. I think you can manage half an hour apart. And he will still be here in half an hour, right?" Sam looked at him now. Dean shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Well, great," Charlie said, standing up. "I guess then I'll bow to you and your tyrannic regime once more." With that, she disappeared out of the room.

Castiel and Sam exchanged a look that contained so much unsaid that Dean grew uncomfortable again. He looked at the empty bowl on the table in front of him, where the chocolate and vanilla ice cream had left unappealing smears.

"I'll see if she can use my help," Castiel said, and got up to follow Charlie.

Sam exhaled heavily and put his forehead in his hands. He spoke before Dean got a chance to ask what was happening.

"Dean." He sounded extremely serious, like he was going to tell him about the death of a closed one or some other tragedy. "We need to talk."

"I thought that's what we've been doing."

Sam took his hands away and looked at him. "I want us to be able to deal with each other normally again. Or at least whatever is normal for us. I want us to talk to each other again. I want-"

"I got it. I want that too. What are you trying to say?"

"We need to be honest with each other if we want it to work."

"Yeah..." Dean said warily.

Sam looked so exhausted all of a sudden, as he ran a hand over his forehead.

Dean felt his throat go dry. He had an inkling what this was going to be about.

"Is it about Cas?"

Sam just blinked.

Suddenly Dean knew. He knew it all, and the veil of confusion vanished. All that remained was anger.

"That's why he just left, isn't it?"

"Dean, please."

"He lives here, doesn't he? With you?"

"Sort of."

Dean nodded. "Are you together?"

"What?" Sam looked much too surprised considering how obvious the question had been. "No. No, we're not together. Did Charlie say we are? Because we're not."

"No, she didn't. But what else could it be that you're so scared of telling me. Or are you pregnant again?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean, this is difficult enough as it is, okay? I'm being serious."

"I was being serious too."

"We're not together," Sam said again. "We never were."

Dean rubbed his palms over his jeans, they were warm and a little wet.

"Why not?"

"He loves you," Sam said.

Dean nodded again.

"And if he didn't, then..."

Sam looked down at the table. "I’m so sorry."

"What exactly is it you are sorry for?"

"For everything. I'm sorry I accused you of paranoia so many times. I swear I really never intended for this to go this way. I wanted to do everything right. And I never wanted to hurt you. I... Shit, Dean." Now he was looking at him again. His hazel eyes were glassy. “I’m not getting the words out right. I've been thinking about how to say that for so long. Because you have a right to the truth."

"The truth." Dean snorted.

"I never meant to fall in love with him."

Dean closed his eyes. He tried to remain calm. He unclenched his fingers.

This was not going to end in violence. He needed to stay calm, if he wanted to see Charlie again. But it was difficult to think of her while his head was spinning and his fist wanted nothing more than to smash into Sam's face.

The audacity to sit there and look at him with sad puppy eyes. As if that would make anything okay. As if him being sad and remorseful did fuck all for Dean.

"You slept with him?" Dean asked. "After Charlie, I mean."

"Not when you were together."

Dean huffed and shook his head.

"I guess that makes it okay, huh?"

"I'm not saying it makes it okay. I just want you to know—"

"Did it happen once? Or is it like a weekly thing? Cause I know what Cas can get like, so-"

"Dean, don't do this," Sam interrupted him. "Is this really important, don't you-"

Dean's flat hand hit the table and Sam winced like he’d been hit.

"I thought you wanted us to be completely honest with each other? So, how often?"

"A few times, but it's not what you think. I didn't-"

"What, you're trying to tell me it didn't mean anything?"

Sam shook his head, his hair fell in front of his eyes. "No, I'm not stupid, I know it did mean something. It does. But I didn’t plan it and I wouldn't have let it happen as long as you were together."

"Hurrah for that."

"He still loves you," Sam said quietly. "He does. So I wouldn't-"

Behind the shame there rang a sadness in Sam's voice.

"How magnanimous of you that you're not officially dating then. Cause that's what I really care about. Your official relationship status, not the fact that I was right all along in not trusting you."

"I really am so sorry. I know I can't make it right, but I need you to believe me."

Dean got up slowly.

"You can shove your apology up your ass. But thanks for the honesty, I guess. It only took you 13 years."

"You're leaving?" Sam sounded panicked.

"What do you think? That I want to hear more stories from your perfect happy family life."

"I told you, we're not together, Dean, we're really not."

"Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean spoke slowly. "What is that even supposed to mean? You live together. He loves you, you love him, you fuck. What exactly does that mean that you are not a couple? That you don't tell your own daughter about it? That you're not 'official'? Are you really so far removed from reality that you think that's what I'd care about? Not that fact that you're with him in all the ways that matter? That you took him from me?"

Dean turned and stormed into the hall. He opened the door to Charlie's room, where he avoided looking at Castiel and only focused on his niece.

"Sorry, honey. I have to go." He spoke quickly. "I just got an urgent call. But I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We'll see each other again soon."

"Dean, but-"

"I promise," he said. "I don't break my promises."

He forced out a smile, then stepped back into the hall.

Sam stood there and looked at him desperately.

"Dean, please stay. I want to explain-"

"Forget it, Sam.” He shrugged. "It is none of my business anymore what you do and Cas do. You said that yourself. I'm just asking you to at least be honest with yourself."

"But-"

"Doesn't mean I want to see you guys make heart eyes at each other up close. I had that shit for the better part of a decade already."

Suddenly Castiel was standing in the hall too.

"Dean," he said in a deep calm voice. He was reaching for him and Dean ducked away. "Please don't leave yet."

This was too much. Dean no longer managed to keep calm. "What the fuck was that all about earlier?” He took a step towards Castiel and shoved him against the collar bone. “What is wrong with you?”

"I..."

"You what? You don't think that maybe that was something I’d needed to know?"

He wanted to say so much, but then Sam and Cas glanced at each other again. It was brief, it lasted less than a second, but there was so much mutual understanding in their eyes, that it made Dean feel sick.

“Hey, you know what, that's great. It's fine,” he said now, his voice only a little on the hysterical side. “You found each other after all this time! Way to go! And now nobody stands between you." And then when neither of them protested, Dean added: "And I finally know for sure that I wasn't crazy or paranoid or all the other shit you guys were calling me! At least I know I can trust myself."

He slammed the door behind him, and ran down the stairs, taking two steps at once.

He was about to start the Impala when someone pulled open the passenger door. He expected to see Castiel or Sam, but it was Charlie who was standing in front of him. She had thrown a travel bag over her shoulder.

"I'm coming with you." She was unwavering. "You can't stop me. I am much stronger than you are."

"Charlie, no."

She stepped into the car and pulled the door close with force.

"Go," she told him. "Drive."


	13. Year 13

Although his body didn't need to sleep, he liked lying next to Sam and watching his chest rise and fall. He enjoyed the feeling that in those moments nothing but the two of them existed, and that nothing of the outside world – not Charlie, no angels and not even Dean - could interfere in their very own cosmos.

The sky behind the curtains turned pink and the screeching of the seagulls echoed dully through the panes. Castiel wondered why the birds went into town every morning when it was completely empty there and their screams were thrown back from the walls of the houses, only to fly back to the sea as soon as the day began.

He glanced at the alarm clock on Sam's bedside table - it was completely unnecessary, all angels could always determine the exact time. It was a quarter to six. Not long and the alarm clock would ring. He snuggled closer to Sam. Feeling his heartbeat and the vitality of his blood pumping through his veins, he thought of Dean and how it had felt to lie next to him and feel his warmth. A similar feeling of safety and love, and yet so different.

He had to admit that he could not fool himself: there was no place where the outside world out there couldn't reach him. Where the 'what if' thoughts were kept at bay and the tugging feeling that there was another place he wanted to be, too.

Sam started to move in his arms. Maybe he had felt his restlessness, maybe his body was just conditioned to wake up at this time. Sam hated being woken up by the alarm clock, so Castiel began to gently stroke over his back and shoulders until his eyes flew open.

"Good morning, Cas."

Sam leaned up and smiled at him.

Sam always woke up incredibly quickly for a person. He was like a very powerful car, and went from deep sleep to being fully awake in less than two seconds. Maybe it was his hunter's upbringing. Dean had always woken up so quickly too. And he too had often smiled when he'd seen his face first thing in the morning.

"Good morning." Castiel returned the smile, and then the kiss, as Sam leaned in closer. "I hope you had a good night's sleep?"

Sam nodded and buried his fingers in Castiel's hair.

"I wish I didn't have to get up so soon. I hate having to go to work."

"You don't." Castiel responded to the touches. "Otherwise you would not have accepted this job, even though you don't need to work. And in the evenings you always enthusiastically tell me what you have experienced that day."

Sam's fingers were now on his lips as if he wanted to trace the fine line there.

"Alright, you got me. I'm a boring regular guy and I like having a part of my life be so normal. I like to get out and it feels good to be able to do something, to have a job and be productive and make some money myself." He kissed Castiel again. "But right now I wouldn't mind staying in bed with you a little longer."

"You were productive before you had a job too." Castiel stroked over Sam's side, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin. "Raising Charlie is an important task."

"A task I failed miserably."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned away from Castiel. The sensual mood that had built up between them was gone.

"Don't say that. It's because she's a teenager. I read a lot of specialist literature on the topic." Castiel wanted to touch him again, but Sam had already got up and was picking out his clothes out of the closet. "It is because her brain is changing and hormones flood her body."

"Charlie hates me."

"You know that's not true. It is a normal phase of rebelling. Teenagers say things like that, but in reality they still need their parents' support and love.”

"Do you think I don't know that?" Sam slipped into a pair of dress pants. "Do you think I’d love her less just because she's behaving like this?"

“Of course not. I didn't want to imply - "

"She's just so god damn... smart and strong-willed." He shook his head, then put on a shirt and started to button it up. "If she used her skills for something meaningful. She could, I don't know, become the next president or secretary-general of the UN or something." He sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. "But instead she uses it to find my weakest spots and torture me."

He didn't have to say more, Castiel already knew what Sam would continue telling him. He also knew that his daughter was very good at what she did.

"It's only a few more years." He tried to comfort Sam. "The books I’ve read on adolescence all say that the physical development in girls is already complete at the age of sixteen."

Sam laughed. "From your lips to God's ears."

"I don't think God has anything to do with it, or that He is willing to help us."

Sam laughed again and bent down to the bed, to put a soft hand onto Castiel's cheek. Then his face grew grim again. "So I guess I'm going to venture into the teenage dragon's den now and try to wake up the sleeping monster."

* * *

When Castiel got dressed and entered the kitchen, Charlie was already sitting in her seat, stirring her soy yogurt. The mood was so tense that Castiel could feel the sparks flying between her and Sam.

"Good morning, daughter."

He had hoped to make her laugh by hinting at a science fiction film they'd only seen last week, but she didn't respond to his joke or his attempt to hug her.

He sat down in the seat opposite her and held on to the coffee cup that Sam had put down. It hurt to see her like this. He didn't know what stung more: her absolute humanity, which surrounded her like the cloud of her cheap vanilla deodorant, or the loss of their intimacy. He remembered moments when she'd been young, when she'd surprised him with her clever questions, when she'd snuggled up to him, and when he'd felt so incredibly close to him that he thought his heart would shatter. He had always expected that the older she would get, the more her grace would shine through, the more alike and closer they would be. How wrong he'd been.

"Do you want to meet after school and do something together until Sam comes home from work?"

No answer.

"We could have some food. Or go to the cinema? What do you want to do?"

She was still stirring her yogurt without having eaten one bit. She didn't speak.

"I gotta go. See you later." When Sam leaned down to Castiel and pressed a kiss onto his lips, Charlie made choking noises. That was when the fragile balance broke and Sam’s flat palm hit the table.

"That's it. Enough is enough."

"What is enough?"

She had jumped up. Her eyes narrowed into small slits. They faced each other like they were about to go onto physical combat.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

 _"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"_ She mimicked him. "Have you ever noticed that whenever you run out of augments, you come up with some "We do it as I say" power gestures. Except that nobody takes you seriously?"

Sam turned to Castiel. "She's angry because I bought the wrong yoghurt. And she doesn't want to go to school again."

"He didn't get an organic brand." Her glare suggested that it was a matter of life and death. "Maybe he doesn't care that if we continue to shoot so much CO2 into the atmosphere, the world will be an uninhabitable place in thirty years because he will be long dead by then. But since I still can’t use my grace, I have a legitimate interest that his generation does not plunder the earth like-" she paused, "like an electrical store on Black Friday."

"I don't see the connection," Castiel admitted.

"Didn't you know?” Sam laughed. "I am personally responsible for global warming and the melting of the polar caps, because I work in an office. But yeah, sure, driving around the country in the Impala, eating fast food from farm animals, that's so much better."

"Leave Dean out of this!" Castiel had never seen his daughter so angry. When she'd been a toddler and thrown herself on the floor in front of the candy shelf in the shop, her anger had been cute. Now it was only scary. "You don't even have the right to say his name!!

Sam looked tired. "Please just go to school without the drama today, okay? We pay a fortune for your education. And we pay it with the money I make at my job. Because, if you remember, you hated when we had to sell stuff from the bunker. You can't have it both ways.”

"That's a great excuse to work for an inhumane exploiter company with a consumer-oriented -"

He raised his hand to stop her tangent.

"I'll call Mrs. Porter later and if I hear that you didn't come to school again, you'll make up for that day. On your Dean weekend."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Sam seemed to gain the upper hand in the discussion. Castiel didn't know if he liked that.

"Oh yes, I would. And do you know what else? Dean and I talk on the phone and we are on the same page about this, so don't try to play each other out. He wants a normal life for you too and he wants you to go to school like any other teenager. You know that's why he brought you back when you tried to run away with him?”

Now she hit the table with her fist, only that despite her despair this gesture had nothing human. A blast ran through the room, knocking over glasses and cups. Everything was quiet for a moment, even Charlie before she spoke again.

"Great, Dad! You can be really proud of yourself and your black pedagogy." She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. "I'm going to school today but don't think that means that you won." She slipped into her flats. "You don't know how much I really hate you! And I know Dean does too!”

"Charlie!" Castiel tried to reach her before she could close the door.

"Don't!” she said, so much strength in her voice that he actually startled. "You have no idea what it's like to be half angel and half human. No one gets me!"

"But I know what it's like to be an angel who has been expelled from heaven."

Her lips twisted into an angry smile.

"Do you even know that all the angels around here, all the -" she considered and then shook her head. "That all the angels, period, laugh about you? For them, you are nothing more than a joke, passed from one bed to the next."

Then she closed the door with a loud bang behind her.

* * *

When someone turned the key in the lock in the afternoon, Castiel expected the worst. He had been thinking about sentences with which he could open the conversation with his daughter all day, but the Charlie who now stuck her head into his living room with a happy "Hi Dad!" seemed a completely different person than her evil twin sister from earlier.

"Hello." He greeted her with a hug. "How was school?"

"Alright. We prepared for the math competition, so time passed quickly."

"Maybe we could go out for lunch? There is an organic bistro that opened where the washer used to be. I know you are interested in a more climate friendly lifestyle.”

She nodded and brushed a strand of her dark hair from her face.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't want to freak out like that but sometimes Sam makes me so angry."

"He loves you very much. I hope you know that. "

She sighed. "Yeah.That's what Dean says too."

"Then maybe he doesn't hate Sam as much as you claimed this morning?"

Why was it so important to him to know that?

She shrugged. "He says he couldn't hate him, no matter what happened. It's a genetic thing." She shook her head again. "But if I were him, I'd definitely hate Sam. And I'd hate you too."

He wondered if he should try to explain it to her somehow, but how? Despite everything, she was just a child, who thought of herself as an adult and had an easy answer for all the questions of life. Part of him envied how self-assured she was.

"Well, then we can all be happy that you're not him."

"Cas? Were you angry with your father sometimes?"

"With God?" Castiel looked at her perplexed. "Well, he was never there and I don't mean that figuratively. Almost no angel has ever seen him."

She seemed to be thinking.

"That makes even someone like Sam sound almost okay."

She shrugged before trailing Castiel outside into the big city.

* * *

They had had a good talk. It had gone so well that Castiel had given himself to the illusion for about half an hour, that everything was actually as before and the argument this morning had been something of a one-time slip up. But then Charlie had taken out her phone and since then she'd been typing and hardly listening to a word of Castiel. It hurt that she laughed in the most inappropriate places because her thoughts were somewhere else than with him.

"Are you texting Dean?" he finally asked.

"Not right now. He has this werewolf thing with Garth, I don't want to disturb him."

"With Garth? But isn't he-"

"A werewolf himself? Yeah."

"I actually wanted to say: I thought he no longer worked as a hunter?"

Castiel took a sip of Coke from the glass. He was not thirsty, he was never thirsty.

"Apparently they're trying to convince the other werewolves not to eat as many people anymore, or something."

She shrugged and turned back to her cell phone.

"But who are you texting then?"

"I’m texting some angels. We opened a chat group called 'Seven Steps to the Apocalypse’.” When she noticed how pale and frozen Castiel was, she rolled her eyes, annoyed. "God, Dad! Have you never heard of sarcasm before? I'm texting Lila."

"Garth's daughter Lila?"

"No, the other Lila I know."

"Sarcasm, I see."

He nodded.

"Anyway, it's Friday today and I thought that maybe you and Sam could use some time for yourselves. Especially because it's been so exhausting having me around."

"When you start like this, you usually want something." He put the glass down. "So what is it, daughter?"

She laughed.

"Lila just asked if I didn't want to stay the night." Charlie's eyes had a pleading look. "Come on, you know Garth and Beth and you know that they are the most boring parents in the world, almost as bad as Sam. They will take good care of me." She cocked her head. The look in her eyes reminded him very much of Sam. "You used to always want me to play with her."

"Back then Lila was less-" He was looking for the right words. "She was not as promiscuous yet."

"Dad!" She looked at him in horror. He was sorry for his words. "That is so not true, and even if she were - What’s your problem? The fact that she is a werewolf or that she is a girl? You had something going on with Dad and Dean at the same time and you judge her?"

The first people from the next table turned and looked over at them.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. This was thoughtless and inappropriate of me."

"You should apologize to her and not to me. We just want to watch DVDs and talk.”

"I think it would be very strange if I brought you to her and then apologized for calling her promiscuous behind her back."

"Does that mean I can go?"

She bit her lip while a waiter cleared their plates.

"It is fine with me."

She jumped up to hug him and for a moment everything was fine.

* * *

Fortunately, Sam didn't protest when he returned to an empty apartment in the evening and Castiel explained that he had brought Charlie over to Lila's house. The last thing he needed after such an emotionally taxing day was trouble with Sam.

"So we got the evening to ourselves?"

Castiel nodded and put his arms around Sam.

"What do you want to do?" Castiel asked. "We could go to the cinema? Or we could visit that art exhibition you read about recently.”

Sam shook his head.

“If you don't mind, I'd prefer to stay in. Maybe watch a movie on the couch and then go to bed early. I'm really beat."

"Yes, of course."

He tried not to show his disappointment and went over the couch.

In the end, he watched most of the movie by himself. Just a few minutes after it had started, Sam's head was slumped against his shoulder and his breathing revealed that he had fallen asleep. But when his cell phone rang, Sam immediately awoke.

"Yes?" He didn't even sound sleepy. "Oh, it's you. Hey, Dean. Yeah, next weekend is still a go, although with the way she's been acting lately-"

Castiel made a conscious effort to not listen. Dean's existence still triggered something in him that he couldn't even name, but that was very strong. Maybe a mixture of guilty conscience, love and longing. He got up to get new drinks from the fridge. When he stepped back into the living room, Sam was still on the phone.

"Say hi to Garth from me. He should let me know if Charlie acts up."

Castiel set down the full glasses.

With every "Mhm" and nod that Sam made, his face became a bit more serious.

"Yeah, let me talk to him for a second."

Castiel no longer bothered to pretend that he wasn't listening.

"Hi, this is Sam. Yeah, I'm positive. Cas brought her over earlier today."

"Hm." Another nod. "Yes, please get in touch as soon as you know more. Thanks."

When he hung up, Sam put his cell phone onto the living room table, grabbed one of the glasses that Castiel had put down and emptied it one go.

"I could strangle her!"

“What’s the matter?”

"The girls aren't with Beth and Garth. Lila told them she wanted to stay with a friend called Britney, who admitted that she had promised Lila to act as an alibi if her parents asked any questions."

"But where are they then?"

Sam shrugged.

"Dean and Garth are looking for her. They said I can't do anything from here anyway, and they would handle it. I shouldn't be so worried, should I? I mean she’s a big girl, and what’s the worst that could realistically happen?" He laughed, but he did not sound amused. "They probably just snuck into some party. Years from now we'll probably all laugh about it, right?"

The way Sam scooted closer to him said something else. Castiel couldn't help but feeling uneasy too.

* * *

The time didn't want to pass. Castiel was fascinated by how long two hours could feel. Sam had called Charlie's cell phone about twenty times and left messages on her mailbox. At first in a stern voice, later more and more desperate, but no reaction followed. Even though it was now one o'clock at night, there was no trace of tiredness left in Sam.

The phone rang again. Sam jumped up and picked it up. Even before he spoke, Castiel could tell from his disappointed look that it must have been Dean.

"Okay," Castiel heard Sam say. "A hunter? You're sure?" He began to pace back and forth in the room. "But why should they-" Sam stopped, confusion and horror merging on his face.

Castiel stepped up to him, and caught his attention. "Tell Dean I'll come over and look with them." He touched Sam's shoulders. "Everything will be fine. I promise."

"But Cas-"

He pressed Sam’s hand and tried to smile at him reassuringly.

The very next moment, he sat in the middle of nowhere. Wet grass below him, a thousand stars shining above him and next to him loomed Dean, who still held the cell phone in his hand. He lowered it slowly.

"Cas." Even in the dark, his outlines were still so terribly familiar, drawing him in. "How come you can find me anywhere, but you can't locate Charlie?"

"It's because of the masking spell that protects her." He rose into a sitting position and chased away the dizziness. "It hides her from all the angels, including me."

"Yes, you carved one of those into my ribs once too, you remember?"

Even in the barest of moonlight, his eyes looked infinitely sad.

"But you gave me permission to find you. That's why I could visit you in your dreams, too."

Dean sucked in the night air. "So it's kinda like forgetting to ask for your keys back after a break up."

"Dean, I -"

"Forget it. We need to find Charlie."

He nodded and let Dean help him up.

"What have you been able to find out so far?"

"So the girl, Britney, the one Lilia claimed to stay with, she broke down into tears and admitted that Lila met some guy online some time ago. Good looking, older than her, with a cool car... They wanted to meet up today.”

"What has Charlie got to do with this?"

Dean shrugged. Castiel knew him well enough to know that he wasn't half as relaxed as he was pretending to be.

"Lila probably remembered that you shouldn't meet strangers off the internet on your own, not even as a werewolf."

"And that man, who is he?"

"He's a hunter and a psychopath." Dean pulled out his cell phone and opened the photo of a man who seemed straight out of a romance novel, with his black shoulder length hair and bright big eyes. "Lila sent this picture to Britney to show off. His name is Tony Milton." Dean snorted. "You remember back when I started hunting again?"

"The hunters who threatened Garth and his family?"

"Exactly, that was Steven Milton, Tony's father." Dean put the phone back into the worn pocket of his jeans.

“Garth and Beth are currently mobilizing their werewolf friends to look for possible clues where he might have taken them. A werewolf can follow a trail better than a police dog. It shouldn't take too long."

Castiel tried to suppress the thought that it was probably the same werewolves that they had just wanted to convert to eat less human flesh and that they were short on time.

"Until then, we could check all the abandoned buildings and barns in the area and-"

Castiel put his hand to his aching forehead.

“What's wrong?”

Dean's fingers seemed to burn his skin, the touch such a shock to his system that it knocked the air out of Castiel's lungs. He could feel the impact on a molecular level, the missing puzzle piece. It would never feel like they didn't belong together.

Dean watched him with worry in his eyes.

"It's Charlie," Castiel choked out. "She's praying to me." Then he pulled himself free. "Come! I now know where to find them."

Castiel took Dean's hand and the next moment they were standing inside a building. An old barn, maybe, or a warehouse. He felt dizzy, as if he had used too much of his grace at once.

"Cas?" Dean whispered and pulled him back up into a standing position. Castiel wanted to lean into the familiar protectiveness, and at the curve where their bodies touched, a healing warmth spread. Then his gaze followed Dean's outstretched arm.

Charlie stood tall over a slumped figure, her hand pressed into his forehead. He screamed in agony.

It was clearly Charlie, she even wore the same "If you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem" T-shirt she had been wearing this afternoon. It was her, and at the same time she was a complete stranger.

A powerful energy surrounded her and there was a light so bright it burnt even Castiel's eyes. He had to shield his eyes, and couldn't even say if the outlines of wings he saw were truly there – then everything turned white for a moment.

"Kill him!"

He forced his eyes open.

Lila was lying on an iron table and fighting against the chains they were holding. The red of the blood made the white of her teeth and the yellow of her predator eyes shine even more intensely.

For a few seconds it was like the world held its breath. Nothing happened. Dean beside him stood as frozen as him. Both the man in front of Charlie and the werewolf girl screamed. Then Charlie let go and as soon as the light appeared, it was gone again. All that remained was a disoriented teenager who stumbled towards the table with uncertain steps.

"Lila, oh God, no."

That was also the moment Castiel's legs started to move again. "Charlie!" He paid no attention to the figure on the floor and ran straight for his daughter.

She threw herself into his arms and hid her tear-wet face against his torso. "We didn't mean to... but this man-" She broke off. "You have to help Lila."

Dean had drawn his gun. The loud shot made them all wince.

"Everything's gonna be okay." Dean pulled the severed chains away. She eyed him like a frightened agitated animal, and Castiel feared she might attack him. "We'll take you to your parents."

But then she just nodded. Dean put his arms around her to steady her, as she climbed off the table. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Charlie nodded too and started to move. After a few steps she pointed to the place where the man had just been. "He's gone,” she said, her mouth a perfect O. Then she collapsed.

* * *

Dean poured the amber liquid into a glass before their eyes met. "You want one too?"

It was strange sitting here with Dean. Here in the living room of the Garth family, where they used to visit to chat or play a board game. Since the break up, Castiel hadn't been here. Garth was Dean's friend and one of the few things that had remained solely in Dean's possession.

Today the circumstances were different anyway. There were no easy conversations and no snacks. Now there was a group of strange werewolves who had retired towards the kitchen with Garth, while Beth was in the room with Lila, and the two of them - the Hunter Angel fraction - who had helped in some way, but whom no one trusted.

"Yes, thank you."

Dean poured some whiskey for him too.

As they clinked their glasses, the painful feeling of nostalgia and loss pervaded Castiel once more.

The drink tickled his throat and for a brief moment he wished he could feel the calming effects of alcohol like a human could.

The door opened and a young man came in to get a laptop.

"You still reckon we werewolves should live peacefully alongside humans?" he asked Dean.

Dean had leaned back and half closed his eyes. "Yes."

"And if we don’t? Will you slowly cut me open the way that hunter cut open Lila?"

Dean's eyes fluttered open.

"No. I'd shoot a silver bullet right between your eyes."

The man smiled and shook his head.

"Dean Winchester, you're quite a character. You live by your own rules, I like that." He held the laptop under his armpit. "I bet that's a pretty lonely life, only you and your ideals."

He walked towards the door and turned around once more. "If we ever face each other as enemies, then I just promise to kill you quickly."

Dean nodded, then the door closed and they were alone again.

Everything in Castiel longed to draw him into an embrace, to comfort him as he knew he could – but at the same time he was aware that it was probably the last thing Dean wanted now.

"You know you're not alone. You have me and Sam."

Dean didn't even look at him.

"Just tell me about Charlie,” he demanded wearily and took another sip from his glass.

"The hunter presented himself as nice and charming to lure in the girls and roofie them." As soon as Castiel spoke, he felt the anger rising again. "He must have thought of Charlie as purely human, which is why he didn't pay more attention to her. He had no idea that she would not be affected for very long."

"And that she'd strike back with the force of an atomic angel keg?" Dean shook his head. "I don't get it." He looked at him now. “I thought her grace was sealed off." He tapped against the rim of his glass. "And why did she collapse? Is she really okay? And don't lie to me."

"Be assured, Dean." He put a hand on his shoulder. Once again he had to physically force himself not to pull him close. "She is fine, Sam is with her."

"Sam can't heal her."

"Yes, but he can comfort her and that's what she needs right now. Even if both of them are like fire and water right now, they're very close. "

"I know what a wonderful mother he is." Dean put the glass back on the table. "That's not the point."

"Physically, she is fine. You don’t have to worry. As an angel it is in her nature to be powerful."

"She is human too."

Castiel turned away, but Dean grabbed his wrist and leaned closer. "What is it that you don't want to tell me?"

"It is of no import."

"Then tell me!"

Castiel hesitated, searching for the right words amidst all the wrong ones.

"The spell that protects her - each time she uses her powers, it disintegrates a little more."

"What does that mean?" Dean didn't let go off him, his fingers digging deep into Castiel's skin.”What the fuck does that mean?”

"I'm not sure exactly."

Castiel cast his eyes downwards. Dean let go, he deflated into his chair.

Then he poured himself another glass of whiskey. Out of the corner of his, Castiel watched him. If you paid close attention you could see the slight tremor in his hands.

"Well, shit," Dean said, and knocked back the drink, his head thrown back. “What are we going to do?“

* * *

"She's asleep," Sam said. “She was so panicked, I had to give her a sleeping pill.”

Castiel considered mentioning that its effect on her would be minimal, but if Charlie was asleep and Sam was assured, there was no need to bring it up.

Sam sat down on the couch and rubbed over his forehead. Sometimes he managed to look so fragile, his shoulders slouched forward, his arms braced on his knees. He reminded him of the protagonist in a Greek tragedy, moments before the finale.

Then Sam looked up at him. "Is Dean okay?" he asked. "And everyone else, of course."

"Lila will heal." Castiel sat down on the couch, a finger breadth away from Sam. “And your brother is unharmed."

"I know, I meant-"

Now it was two hands running over his face, as if he was trying to wash himself clean of his thoughts.

"What happened tonight was unfortunate," Castiel said. "I was very worried too, but Charlie will be okay. And so will everyone. We have weathered much worse."

Sam leant back into the couch, he gazed into the air. They had no lamps turned on, but the bright city lights illuminated the room enough to notice the unsurprising fatigue in Sam's face.

"I can't help but feel like this is on me," Sam said, turning towards him. "That this was my fault."

Castiel didn't see how that could be possible, but he listened in silence.

"So we were lucky this time," Sam said. "But I'm losing her, I know it. Either she's going to die or she will just – I never thought I'd be father of the year material, but that I would fail this miserably? That I would manage to alienate her so much?"

"This had nothing to do with you, Sam. She simply accompanied her friend. It was bad luck. Or rather, it was good luck: If she had not been there, Lila would have died. Charlie saved her friend. She's learnt from the best."

Sam didn't return the smile.

"I know that Dean's taught her to hunt, and I'm glad she and Lila are okay, of course, but – I wanted to give her a normal life."

He looked at Castiel, searching his eyes, but it was unclear what he expected him to say.

"Why did I think this would work, Cas?" he asked, quietly.

"Because you have hope. You always have hope even in the most dire situations."

Sam huffed. "That's called being a fool."

"No." Castiel took ahold of Sam's hand that lay on the couch beside him. "You are anything but a fool."

"You know..." Sam spoke like he was telling him a secret. "I don't believe in karma, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if this all isn't happening, because – I ruined Dean's life, so maybe this is what I deserve?"

Castiel shook his head.

He thought of Dean's eyes burning into his just hours ago. He could still feel him, and could smell his musky scent - so different to Sam's.

"No. You deserve happiness, Sam."

Now Sam smiled meekly. He didn't believe him. He pulled his hand out of Castiel's and stood up. "Sorry, it was just a pretty horrible day. I didn't mean to lay this all onto you."

"It's okay, Sam, I-"

"I'm going to bed," Sam said.

Castiel sat still on the couch.

He had meant to talk to Sam about Charlie's grace and the danger it posed to her, but it would have to wait.

He looked outside, where the blinking lights of the window shone yellow, red and white. He thought of Dean, and wondered where he would sleep tonight. Maybe he'd stay at Garth' house, maybe he would find a motel. And for a moment, Castiel let himself feel the desire to be there with him, even if it were just to watch Dean sleep and to ease him from restless dreams.

Eventually, he got up, and followed Sam into the bedroom.


	14. Year 14

Sam slowly opened his eyes. He was alone in bed.

It took him a moment to understand what had woken him, because Castiel's voice echoed through to him only softly.

Sam pushed the blanket aside, got up and went out into the hall. The door to Charlie's room was ajar. Sam leaned against the door frame and peeked inside.

Castiel was sitting on Charlie's made-up bed, his phone pressed to his ear.

"You’re probably right. I'm sorry, I just felt the need to check."

Castiel noticed Sam, looked up and smiled a brief smile. The floor was cold under Sam's bare feet, as he stepped inside the room and sat down next to him.

"Yes," Castiel said into the receiver, then only listened for a while. "Thank you. And I hope I didn't wake you. Goodbye."

He lowered the phone, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Who was that?"

"Dean."

"Is everything okay with Charlie?"

"Yes."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Then why did he call?"

"He didn't call."

Castiel put the cell phone on the bed onto the side Sam wasn't sitting on.

Sam blinked at him questioningly, but no further explanation came. As if it were common for Castiel to sneak out of the room in the middle of the night to phone Dean.

Hang on. Sneak out? What exactly was he accusing Castiel of right now?

Sam swallowed.

“I didn't know you guys were talking. In general, I mean."

"We don't speak often. I was worried about Charlie, but I knew that my worries were probably unfounded, so I didn't want to wake you up.”

That didn't make a lot of sense to Sam.

"Was Dean awake when you called?"

"I think he was. He sounded very lively. He checked on Charlie and assured me that she was fine. ”

"Okay. Great."

Sam gripped his left hand with his right and squeezed it.

Castiel turned to him so that her knees touched. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, course. I was just surprised."

"I'm sorry my phone call woke you up."

"No, it's fine. I wasn't sleeping very well anyway."

Castiel reached for Sam's arm and looked at his watch, as if he didn't know what time it was by himself.

“You have a couple of hours before you have to get up. Let's go back to bed."

"Okay."

Castiel pulled him up by the hand and back into their room. They both lay down on the bed, facing each other.

In the dark, Sam could only see the outline that had become so familiar to him over the years. It was absurd how much things could change. How this had become his "normal" and how terribly afraid he'd become of losing the little bit of normality that he had fought for – or stolen.

Why did he keep thinking that? Because he knew he didn't deserve it, that this wasn't really his to have?

"You're worried," he heard Castiel's deep voice next to him. "Why?"

When Sam opened his mouth, he was unsure what exactly it was he was going to say.

Castiel's hand lay on his cheek, a gesture which he usually found very comforting. Now it had a sense of finality to it.

"You know you can always wake me up, don't you?"

"Yes. I know. But, if you're referring to just now: I truly didn't see the need to get you out of bed.”

"But if you're worried enough to call Dean, then - you can just talk to me."

Castiel's fingers brushed over his cheek and then over his neck.

"Does it make you uncomfortable that I called him?"

"No, of course not," he lied. He was reasonably sure that Castiel didn't believe him, so he added: "I just don't want you to think you need to hide it from me. Just call him if you want to call him.”

"I'm not hiding anything from you."

"I didn't mean to imply you were."

Sam closed his eyes and turned onto his back.

"I'm not sure I understand the problem then," Castiel said finally. He hadn't moved.

"I'm glad you guys talk again," said Sam. It was the truth. The 'but' hung in the air.

Castiel slid closer to him and put his head on his shoulder.

"It's great if we can all deal with each other in a civilized way." Sam knew how stale his words sounded. "It's a miracle, really."

"What is?"

"I know it's just because of Charlie. I know Dean is trying to be civil because he wants to keep her in his life, but sometimes it's still so... bizarre.”

"What do you mean?"

Castiel put his arm around him and lay his head onto Sam's chest. It was hard to explain how good it felt when they were lying like this. Sam rarely felt as calm and content as in this position. But now the calm did not want to come. Sam couldn't stop thinking about his brother.

"He's trying so hard," Sam finally said. “Every time we talk on the phone or see each other. He tries so hard to be 'normal' with me, but then the way he looks at me sometimes.” Sam laughed a humorless laugh. "I ruined his life, broke his trust. And we both broke his heart. Sometimes I think I'd prefer If he just screamed at me instead of all this pretending that everything is okay."

"Years have passed since we separated," Castiel said. He was attempting to be reassuring. "Maybe he's, mhm, how do you say - maybe he's over it?"

“Dean is never over anything. He just accumulates everything. Everything that has ever been done to him and everything that he believes has been done to him. He's got it all stored away in his head and it never goes away."

"But maybe he's forgiven you?" Castiel seemed to consider this. "He loves you. He can't help it."

The problem wasn't whether he loved him or not, Sam thought, but said nothing.

Castiel reached for Sam's cheek and turned to face him. In the dark, his eyes didn't look blue, but completely black.

"I am very happy that we can talk about things. This way we can avoid many problems that arise when partners do not share their feelings with each other."

The implication was obvious: Castiel was comparing their relationship with the one he had had with Dean. It wasn't any wonder he'd do this, after all he had no other point of comparison. And yet, every time he talked like this, Sam's stomach contracted painfully.

Even if Castiel highlighted something positive about Sam, or the comparisons he drew were fairly neutral (and sometimes he didn't even have to say anything, sometimes it was only Sam imagining how Castiel might compare them) - it didn't change the fact that there was a scoreboard in Sam's head. A scoreboard on which Castiel neatly entered or subtracted points.

"Sam. Tell me what you think."

"I love you," Sam said suddenly. It sounded strangely weighty and sincere in his ears. As if he hadn't said it countless times before. When they said goodbye. When they had sex. Or after one of their few arguments - they have hardly quarreled since they were together, which was a little surprising, if he thought about it now, and a +1 for Sam on the Dean / Sam list.

"I love you too."

Castiel's fingers softly stroked over his face.

"I know."

"But?"

"I'm happy with you," said Sam.

"I am happy with you too."

"And I'm not sure if I would be happy again without you."

He knew how melodramatic it sounded, and it didn't seem like something you should say out loud. It sounded desperate and clingy. But if Castiel insisted on honesty, this was his truth.

This time Castiel didn't echo his words.

"Why should you be without me? I am not going anywhere."

Sam leaned forward and kissed him.

"I know, it was just - I am really happy with you. And that's still pretty crazy to me, after everything."

Castiel shook his head. "It only seems logical to me."

Sam smiled. "Logical."

When he thought about how this relationship had started - It wasn't as if he had resisted his feelings from the start. In the beginning there simply hadn't been any. He had always liked Castiel as a friend. But even if he had suspected any other lingering feelings for him, Sam would never have acted on them. Dean and Castiel's bond had always seemed so strong, it had been almost palpable when you shared a room with them. Even when their relationship had been rocky.

What difference did it make now? What difference did it make that Sam hated himself for the fact that something good had to be broken first, before he could be happy.

In better moments he rejected this thought. It wasn't him who'd broken it. In fact, he had barely been making any decisions for himself for the better part of a decade. He'd only started acting proactively a few years back again. And once he had taken control of his own life a little more, only then had he become happy. Happy-ish. Happier at least in the sense that he was with the person he loved - if he set aside the fact that the other most important people in his life resented him.

It had been Castiel who had fallen in love with him, and it had been him who had taken both the first and most of the subsequent steps. Sam felt guilty, yes, but that didn't change that most of what had happened had happened _to_ him, without him making any active decisions. He hadn't even meant to be at that horrible concert 15 years ago in the first place, and the thought of how different their lives could be right now if Dean hadn't been sick that night was confusing and a little overwhelming.

He remembered bits and pieces of the night, memories like a vague dream that he's overanalyzed to death. It hadn't been about Castiel. Sam had been such a drunk emotional mess, he probably would have slept with just about anyone who'd offered compassion. He didn't want to think about what that said about himself too deeply. But while he knew he hadn't been interested in Castiel that way back then, he blamed himself for getting so drunk in the first place. As a consequence, he had become much more weary of and careful around alcohol since then, something that hadn't exactly helped things between himself and Dean.

It hadn't been the cheating that Dean hadn't been able to forgive, and it hadn't been the lying either. It had been Charlie. And while Sam knew that his actions had causally determined her existence, there had been no way for him to foresee any of it.

The fact was: He alone had not caused Castiel and Dean's great love story to fall apart.

The fact was: Dean was the one who'd driven their relationship into a wall and broken up with Cas. Castiel would have stayed with him, given the chance.

* * *

"And how was it?"

Charlie stood in the doorway and looked at him as if he had just said something incredibly stupid.

"What do you think?"

Castiel kept promising him that it was only a phase, but Sam wasn't so sure. The way his daughter looked at him sometimes was not just normal teenage antics; it wasn't merely a bit of rebellion. There was disgust in her eyes and venom in her voice.

Dean was right: She looked at him the way he had looked at their own father many times. That was how Sam knew it was not something that would just go away by itself. Sam didn't want to wait for his own death for his daughter to see him in a more positive light again.

"Did you have fun?"

"Fun?" She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it was great to be treated like a human being for a moment and not like an idiot."

Sam closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly.

"Dean's waiting downstairs," she said now, in a different tone.

"Why?" He looked into the hallway as if he was expecting him here.

"He wanted to talk to you." She shrugged, then picked up her backpack. "And I think he was scared of running into Cas, so he's waiting in the car."

He didn't know what to say.

"You should see the face you're pulling."

"I'm not pulling a face."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Is Dad home?"

"Yes." Sam nodded towards the kitchen and then passed his daughter and went down the stairs.

Dean stood in front of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed a little tired, but otherwise he looked good, relatively healthy too.

"Hey," Sam said when he reached him.

"Hey."

"Charlie said you there was something you wanted to ask me about?"

He preferred not to repeat anything else she had said.

"Straight to the point." Dean laughed a slightly hollow laugh. "Aren't you going to ask me if she's behaved, like you always do?"

"You would tell me if she hadn't."

Or tell Cas on the phone, he added in thought.

"You're right. But Charlie was fine, like always.”

"What you mean is: Charlie was fine, like she always is when she's with you."

"Mmm, well, yeah. She's still not your biggest fan." Dean's smile seemed forced. "It'll be fine."

"That's what Cas always says too."

Dean nodded and looked down at the floor.

"So, what’s up?" Sam noticed how rude his urgency must have sounded so he added: "Sure you don't want to come up for a bit?"

“Nah. Thanks for the offer, but I have to go. I have another-" He hesitated. Just a second, but he hesitated. "I got a date I need to get to."

"Oh, wow."

"That surprising, huh?"

"No, of course not."

"But you thought I lived in celibacy?"

"No, but a date - That sounds so serious."

Dean laughed. This time it was an honest laugh that made Sam smile out of ancient reflex.

"Whatever it is, it's an hour away and I don't want to be late."

"Of course. I understand. So shoot: What is it?"

"I could have asked you on the phone, but it's easier to see what you really think when I can look at your face."

"And what do you think I wouldn't tell the truth about?"

"Lots." Dean said it jokingly, but it hit Sam anyway. "Jody called me earlier."

"Jody?" Sam asked in surprise. "Jody Mills? Wow, I haven't heard from her in years.”

"I talk to her all the time. We still help each other out every now and then."

Of course he did. Sam didn't know why it irked him that Jody Mills was still in Dean's life and not in his. After all, he had never contacted her either. But still. She had been one of the few people in their Dean-and-Sam-Winchester life that he had considered closer to himself than Dean.

"What did she say? Is she okay?"

"She's doing great. She invited me to her birthday."

The answer surprised Sam.

"Yeah, that's exactly how I looked when she asked me too," said Dean. "I mean, since when does Jody Mills celebrate birthdays? That we get invited to?"

"Yeah, she doesn't seem the type."

"You think you know someone..."

Sam cleared his throat. "And you wanted to ask if Charlie can go with you?" he guessed.

"Uh, no." Dean snorted. "Well, she can come if she wants to, but that wasn't my question. It's rather - she invited you too."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I never told her all the details of my private life," Dean volunteered.

Sam was sure that Jody had at least vaguely been aware about Castiel and Dean.

"You can just tell her I couldn't make it, make up some reason."

Dean looked at him long and hard.

"But that’s the point." He sighed and rubbed over his temple. "You can come if you want."

"Oh."

"I mean, I understand if you don't want to. But you can."

"It would be okay with you?"

"Obviously it would be okay with me." They both knew there was nothing obvious about this. "I'm sure Jody would like to see you there."

"When is it?"

"The first weekend of next month."

Sam nodded, slightly overwhelmed. "I have to see if I can get a day off. I'm not sure if I'm working that weekend."

"Oh yes, right, I forgot. But you can come after work, right. Since you don't need to drive up there."

"What?"

"If you take Cas with you, I mean." Dean put two fingers on his temple. "You always tolerated that kind of travel better than me."

"Oh. Okay. Yes."

"Yes?" Dean pulled away from the car door and took a step towards him. "Does that mean you're planning to come?"

"If we can make it."

"If all fails, you can just skip work." Dean shrugged. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"They could fire me."

“Then you find work someplace else. I always forget what you do anyway." Sam opened his mouth, but Dean shook his head. "And I don't really care to know either. Just come to her birthday, okay?"

He patted Sam's shoulder, which was the greatest physical affection he had shown Sam in years.

Dean went to the driver's side and opened the door.

"Say hi to Cas," he said, before he disappeared into the Impala.

At the dinner table, Sam stared at the noodle and chickpea stew in his bowl for a while. Then he looked up and watched Charlie shovel the food inside her mouth without a pause to breathe.

"What kind of food do you eat when you're on the road with Dean?"

She shrugged. "Whatever's there?"

"Whatever's there?"

Now she put the spoon aside for a moment.

"Well, he always makes sure there's enough for me to eat." She shrugged again. "Even if it's just french fries." She saw his face and wrinkled her nose. "Not another one of your lectures, okay?"

"Why do you think I'm going to lecture you?"

"Because I know you, Dad. Because I've been listening to your lectures for 14 years now."

If anyone in this house liked to give lectures, it was her, Sam thought.

Castiel interrupted their conversation, which probably would not have ended peacefully anyway.

"What did Dean say?" he asked, and Sam told him.

Castiel reacted with some uncertainty to the invitation. "And you are sure that I am also invited?"

"Yes. I'm sure.”

"But Jody Mills doesn't really know me.”

"So?"

"Who is Jody Mills?" Charlie asked, before she continued shoveling food into her mouth.

"An old friend of ours."

"So a friend of Dean's?"

He decided to let her comment slide. "So do you want to come along?"

"Didn't you say it's in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota? What am I going to do there?"

"Spend time with your uncle. You always say you don't get to see him enough."

"Is that your way of forcing me to go on a family trip?"

He raised his arms in defeat. "I'm not forcing you to do anything. I'm just asking you what you want."

She ate the last spoons of the stew.

"I'm gonna think about it," she said finally, got up and disappeared from the kitchen.

Sam turned to Castiel. "And you still think this will get better eventually?"

Castiel nodded, a slight smile on his lips. "It has already gotten much better."

He put his hand on Sam's. Then he got up and started clearing the table.

"By the way, Dean says hello," Sam told him.

Just as if they hadn't talked on the phone last night. Or maybe exactly because of that. What did he know?

"That's nice of him."

Yes. Sam reached for Charlie's empty plate and cutlery and carried it to the sink.

Yes, it was nice. God damn it.

Sam let the plate slip out of his hands a little too early. It rattled against the sink.

Castiel looked at him curiously.

Sam smiled.

It was ridiculous. And the guilty conscience that ran through their relationship, the knowledge that this wasn't his place anyway, forbade him to think about it any further.

* * *

It felt strange to watch Charlie and Dean interact. He hadn't really seen them together for more than five minutes in the past years and now it was difficult to look away.

It painfully reminded him of how it had once been between himself and Dean. Maybe Dean needed this, someone who trusted him completely, someone he had to take care of.

It would have been unfair to accuse his brother of having replaced him with his daughter.

Besides, nowadays Dean was the one trying to take baby steps towards him, while Sam never quite knew how to react. His feelings towards reconciliation were complicated. On the one hand, there was this extreme need for submission, the feeling that he would do anything to make Dean's disappointment with him disappear, to regain his trust, and to be one again.

On the other hand, Sam couldn't deny that there was a certain feeling of competition, too.

Scoreboard

Dealing with Charlie: Dean +1

Sam ran a nervous hand over his forehead. He had to stop being so irrational.

When someone sat down on the sofa next to him, he thought it would be Castiel. He had been quick to notice how overwhelmed Sam felt at this party, he'd led him to this couch and told him he'd be back with a drink for him in a minute.

But it wasn't him now, it was Jody.

"Sam," she said, warmth radiating from her smile.

"Hey, Jody. Happy Birthday."

They embraced.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come say hello earlier when you arrived."

"No worries," he said, looking around the crowded room. "You've had plenty of stuff to do, people to say hello to."

She nodded.

"Yeah, but it's important to make some time for a friend you haven't seen in ages." She elbowed him softly into his side. "I'm really happy you came."

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

He considered for a moment whether he should tell how difficult it had been to request a day off, but he didn't want to talk about his work. He had no idea what Jody knew about his life and what she didn't. What Dean had told her and what he hadn't.

"I'm happy Charlie came too."

"Oh, you already know her?"

"I met her by chance." She ran a hand through her short hair. "I needed help a few months ago, and Dean arrived with her in tow."

At the other side of the room, Charlie was just holding onto Dean's arm and laughing at something he said. Sam couldn't remember when he had last made her laugh like that.

"You have a great daughter," she said.

He sighed. She laughed.

Castiel emerged from nowhere and held out a glass. Sam reached for it.

"Thanks."

"Hello, Jody," Castiel said formally.

"Hello, Castiel." She seemed very surprised to see him.

Out of impulse, Sam grabbed Castiel's hand and squeezed it.

Jody glanced over at Dean, but she said nothing.

They all looked at Dean now, as he turned around to them, and his smile turned into a frown. "Hey, Cas!" he called over to them, waving.

Everything here felt wrong, not least because Castiel immediately let go of Sam’s hand and walked over to Dean and Charlie.

"I gotta admit, I'm not sure whether I fully grasp your family constellation," Jody said finally.

"It's a little complicated." Sam shrugged.

"Apart from the fact that your daughter is a nephilim, you mean."

Sam smiled faintly. "I wasn't sure how much you knew about that."

"Dean told me some... He also told me years ago that it was better not to ask about Cas after I made that mistake once. So I'm a little surprised that he came."

Sam looked into his glass. He felt far too big and was acutely aware of the how much space he was taking up on the sofa. "He's here with me."

"I figured as much."

Jody put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know what happened between all of you, but I'm the last person who'd judge. In this shitty world, you have to pounce on every little bit of happiness and hold on tight, even when it doesn’t come in the most normal or the most conventional packaging." She smiled at him encouragingly. "Are you happy, Sam?"

Sam hesitated.

She laughed again. "Alright, that's a loaded question. How about: Does he make you happy?"

"Yeah." He turned the glass in his hands. He still hadn't drunk any of it. "Yeah, he does."

She patted his back. "That's what's important."

He remembered again why he had always liked her so much.

They talked for about half an hour. They didn't talk about Dean. Instead, he actually talked about his work and a little bit about how difficult life with Charlie could be. It was good to hear her speak of her life too. He realized how much he'd missed this, talking to other people. Having friends.

"I was kind of surprised when I heard that you are still hunting," he said.

"Why? You think I'm too old?"

She laughed as he squirmed in his seat.

"No, of course not."

At some point, someone patted Jody's shoulder to get her attention and pull her away from him. She apologized, but Sam promised that he would be fine on his own.

Sam put his empty glass on a side table and stood up. He hardly recognized anyone here. There were only a few people here and there that he knew when he had been a hunter himself.

He was looking for Charlie when he found Dean and Castiel in the kitchen. They stood so close to each other that Sam automatically took a step to the side beside the door frame.

There was no reason that they shouldn't see him. And yet.

Castiel leaned against the refrigerator. He shook his head.

"You need to talk to him," Dean said firmly.

"No, Dean, you don't understand."

"I thought you would have done it ages ago. What is it you told me? Sam is always honest and would never lie to you? He fully trust you? Yeah, man, this is truly what trust and honesty looks like."

Sam recognized the sick feeling settling in his stomach as he listened on.

"I told you right at the start. I said you had to tell him or I would."

"I know." Castiel nodded. "I just don't want to burden him unnecessarily."

"You sure that's what it is?" Dean asked softly.

"He is happy and content right now. I don't want him to rush to any wrong conclusions or act hastily. I want to tell him once I have to. But not just yet."

"You've been saying that for..." Dean shook his head. "For almost a year now."

"Dean... please... I don't want to upset him."

"And you don't think he's going to ask you how long this has been going on anyway? The longer you keep it a secret from him, the more angry he is going to get that you didn't tell him straight away."

"Dean, please."

Castiel put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"It's not just him." Dean didn't shake Castiel's hand away. "I'm worried about her too."

"I would never let anything happen to her."

"Yeah, well, you know, Cas, it's kind of hard to take these kinds of promises from you seriously anymore."

"This isn't fair. You know I would give anything for Charlie."

"Yeah, I do. But I also know what you can be like when you think you're doing the right thing, even when it's clearly the one that's gonna cause a lot of heartbreak and misery."

There was a pause.

"I'm no longer sure whether we're talking about Charlie's grace and her safety, or whether you're referring to our break up."

"We're talking about Charlie," Dean hissed. "I told you before that there's nothing I wanna do less than talk about us! There is nothing left to say."

"I know you made it very clear that this is your point of view, but sometimes I feel quite certain you're referring to it anyway."

"That's on you. You think what you wanna think. It's not like you'd care to hear my side of the story anyway. It's not like you ever cared."

"You believe that?" Castiel blinked a few times, honest astonishment written all over his face. "I have always cared about what you think and feel."

"Yeah, sure. You had a funny way of showing that." Dean took a step back and ran a hand over his mouth, a gesture Sam recognized as his brother trying to collect himself. "Forget it. We're not talking about this now. We're talking about Charlie."

"Do you really think that the ending of our relationship can only be blamed on me? I didn't break up with you."

"That's right. You just kept me on the back burner, while you were trying to crack Sam."

"That is not true!" Castiel actually sounded angry now. "I did nothing of the sort. I faced your fears and demands for years. I tried to make it work between us. I would never ever have split up with you!" He pointed his finger at Dean's chest. "You broke up with me. That was your decision. I take responsibility for all my mistakes and actions, but that was not me. This is on you."

"Sorry, do you mind?" A large guy in a leather vest pushed Sam aside and went into the kitchen.

Dean and Castiel stared at Sam as he too stepped into the kitchen.

The other guy calmly looked around for a beer and then, when he'd found it, for an opener. It was only when he’d left again that someone dared to speak.

Dean clasped his hands together.

"Awesome. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"What is wrong with Charlie?" Sam managed to say. It was good that there was something concrete he could hold on to.

"Wow," Dean said sarcastically. "You've been standing here listening to us for all that time, huh? Yeah, Cas, this really looks like a much healthier relationship with no trust issues at all."

Only now, up close, did Sam notice that Dean was drunk.

"Now what?" Dean looked at Cas. "Aren't you going to tell him about Charlie's grace and what it's going to mean for her? How it’s going to fuck her up because-"

"Dean!" Castiel hissed.

"What, he heard us talk anyway." Dean shrugged and looked at Sam with a mixture of real pity and anger. "Don’t worry. I know my brother. He may be mad at you for a moment, but he's not gonna dwell on it. He's going to forgive you. He always forgives." He looked around indecisively for a moment. "I'll go look for Charlie. The way I know Sam, he'll probably want to drag her home any second now. As if any of this crap is her fault."

Sam stared after him.

Castiel put his hand on Sam's forearm.

"Sam, please, you have to believe me -"

"I heard." Sam's voice was monotonous. "You thought it was the right thing to do, not keeping me in the loop."

"I’m sorry I didn't tell you."

"No. You're sorry I overheard."

Castiel shook his head. "No, I'm honestly glad you did. I felt horrible keeping this from you."

"Then why do it? Why did you think you could tell him but not me? Did you think I would overreact? I already know Charlie is getting more and more of her grace back. How could I not have noticed? I'm still her father!”

"Sam, please."

"No, you know what? Dean is right." He pushed his hair behind his ears. "First, we need to go home. How am I supposed to be able to talk to you in peace like this?"

Castiel looked surprised and took half a step back.

"What? Did you think I wanted to talk through our problems in the kitchen at a party?"

"No, I thought you would... You want to talk to me about it in peace?"

Sam furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean? Why is that surprising? You want me to yell at you?"

"No, of course not." Castiel shook his head, but his expression remained mystified. "Yes, let us go home then."

They walked out of the kitchen and back to the party, looking for Charlie.

It wasn't that Sam wasn't angry. He was. They would have to have a very serious and uncomfortable conversation. But what had Castiel expected - that Sam would be so angry that he wasn't willing to hear him out first?

It was a little unfriendly not to say goodbye to Dean, but Sam just didn't have it in him right now. He was tense and tired, and he just wanted to get home safely with his family.

Castiel had been right: He was happy. Happy-ish. And he would not let that slip out of his hands because of one lie or one fight or some misguided overprotectiveness. Not if he could help it. As long as he managed to pull himself together, put his acute feelings of hurt aside and look at things with some perspective. Maybe more perspective than anyone could ask for.

Charlie didn't want to leave, but she must have sensed the tension, because she only complained half-heartedly, and once they were back in Seattle, she went into her room without having to be asked.

They sat on the couch, plenty of space between them, and waited for someone to break the silence.

Castiel clasped his hands together in his lap and eventually said: "I would have told you, Sam. I wanted to have the facts straight. I wanted to know what it meant for her, before I told you. I didn't want to upset or scare you."

Sam turned to him slowly. "I'm not asking you to be someone you're not, Cas. I'm just asking you to be honest with me."

"I am."

"Not just now. Not just after the fact. In general. Be honest with me, even if you think it would hurt my feelings or upset me. That's all I'm asking. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me the truth."

Castiel nodded, a sincere and firm expression on his face. "I will. I promise."

"Okay." Sam looked around the room and then settled his eyes back on Castiel. "Okay."

Gratitude flooded Castiel's face.

He put a tentative hand onto Sam's knee. After a moment of hesitation Sam took it and squeezed it. He tried to smile.


	15. Year 15

The knock on the door pulled Dean out of his sleep. He pulled the gun from under his pillow and jumped up. He did it on autopilot, before he was even aware of what he was doing.

He looked around himself. A typical simple motel room: two beds, a table, the small kitchenette with yellow cabinets.

He wiped over his eyes. A remainder of afternoon light fell through the small windows. He remembered where he was again and what he was doing here. Probably vampires. At least that would go with the newspaper articles about the missing people. Mostly prostitutes, runaways, people that nobody really noticed disappearing.

He narrowed his eyes again. Today was Tuesday. He had only meant to lie down for half an hour, to get some rest before tonight's hunt. A look at the clock on the wall told him that he had slept for more than two hours. Great!

Since he had reached an age that he had always assumed he would never reach - an age that his father had barely reached before his death - some things had become harder than before. He no longer managed to pull all-nighters that easily, and the nights spent on the back seat of the Impala had become a torture for his back.

Sometimes, like now, he slept so deeply that when he woke up he had trouble remembering where he was at all. Then when he looked around and saw Charlie sitting at the table with some books, reading lore, he felt the warm feeling of security that he remembered from his early childhood, when Mom came into the room to look after him. Or later, when he'd been the one who had spent nights making sure that Sammy was fine and he was sleeping quietly and safely next to him.

Most days when Dean woke up he was alone.

He lowered the gun.

It was ridiculous. He'd probably imagined the knock. And even if it'd been real, it'd be for someone else.

He shouldn't keep doing this job for so much longer. The time would come when the experience he had gained over the years would no longer be able to offset his physical decline. He wouldn't want to imagine vampires or wolf wolves laughing at him because he couldn't even hear them when they came into his room to kill him.

The problem was that hunters didn't retire. The only way to leave was on a burning log. Some days, days like today, Dean wondered if the dead had intentionally forgotten about him.

Just as he was about to turn to the fridge for a beer, he heard the knock again. Maybe the receptionist wanted to ask something, or a drunk had mixed up the rooms.

Dean made sure the gun was back under the pillow before walking towards the door and opening it with a quick movement. He would have expected anyone, just not the person at the door.

"Sam?"

He wasn't the only one who had grown older. The less he saw of Sam, the more he noticed the changes in him. Although his brother was still taller and stronger than Dean was, something in him had become thin and fragile.

"It’s probably the life he leads," Dean thought and looked at the fine woolen coat Sam was wearing now, which underlined his fragile appearance. "This normal life with a respectable job and an apartment in an actual city."

He tried to push the thought of Sam’s and Castiel's life out of his mind, but the images were there now. How Castiel would wait for Sam at home in the evenings and how they spent their home-made dinners together, the cutlery scraping over the plates. How Castiel had probably helped Sam choose this coat. How he would have said: "It looks good on you, but everything looks good to you."

"What do you want?" Dean asked and then when he noticed the hurt expression on Sam's face, he added: "Sorry, I thought we'd agreed that Charlie would visit next week. But if you want to switch, then-"

"No, Charlie isn't with me. She is in Seattles. She’s at one of her environmental group meetings, I think."

He looked past Sam anyway, as if it could make his niece's face appear behind him, but he only saw cloudy dawn and rain falling softly.

"Charlie mentioned you just got a case in Vancouver right now." Sam still stood at the door. He looked very tired. Maybe it was because of the rain and the darkness framing his face. "And I thought, well, I figured I could come visit." He forced his lips into a smile. "I brought pie."

"You cross the border to bring me pie?"

"No." Sam scratched his head. "I was just nearby for work and-"

"You could have called if you wanted to discuss something."

"Would you have picked up?"

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Of course. Could have been about Charlie."

Sam looked at him pleadingly.

"Please... I drove over three hours. Can't I at least come in for a second?"

"Feels like crap, doesn't it?" Dean thought, but then he nodded and let Sam step inside. "I saw some instant coffee lying around here somewhere. You want some?"

Sam nodded. He had taken off his shoes in the entrance area, which was strange because Dean was still wearing his. The rustling of the kettle filled the silence between them and from Sam's expression he could see that he was just as grateful for it as he was.

The water boiled far too quickly. Dean poured the hot water and dumped the coffee granules into the mugs. It smelled a little musty.

"These mugs are kind of funny." Sam pointed to the dishes. Dean nodded.

"Do you remember? We used to have this competition, who could find the weirdest mug ever?" Sam reached for his coffee as if he needed to hold onto something. "We always took the current winner along with us and looked in every new motel to see if there was an even worse one." His smile reminded Dean of the past. "We figured that way we’d eventually end up with the worst mug in the whole U.S." He put the mug down onto the table. Dean didn't say anything. "How did it end?"

"Dad found the mug, threw it away and made us run a bunch of miles for dragging along so much unnecessary weight."

"Oh, yeah. Now I remember."

It was quiet between them again. Somewhere in one of the adjoining rooms, they heard a couple fight.

"Oh, I almost forgot about the pie." Sam bent down for the tote bag that stood next to the table. "I hope you still like cherry?"

"Sam, why are you really here? If something’s come up and Charlie can’t spend her summer vacation with me, just say so."

"No no, that's a done deal." He came up so fast that he almost banged his head against the table. "I just thought, well, that maybe we could talk to each other. Like we used to."

It was quiet again. This time Dean was the one who stirred his cup, although the coffee powder had long dissolved.

"You know it's not like it used to be."

"Yes, I know, and that's -"

"No." Dean silenced him. "Don't you dare. This shit is on you. You were the one who stole my partner, who ran away and who sabotaged every attempt I made to stay a part of your life. So don't you dare come to me now and think a fucking piece of pie is gonna change anything. You won't find your absolution here."

"I don't want absolution. I just wanted..."

"What did you want?" Dean's mouth twisted. "You wanted to tell me you're sorry for hurting me when I was always on your side? Let's not kid ourselves: You are not sorry."

"You told Charlie that you'd forgiven me and that she should stop being so resentful towards me." Sam ran a hand over his face. "You defended me and told her that people aren't perfect. That no matter what, family is family."

"I tell her this kind of crap because I want what’s best for her. It has nothing to do with you." He got up and went to the sink. "Do you remember last year, Jodie's birthday? It was so important to me that we went there together and you left me standing there like a bag of garbage." Dean clenched his hands into fists. "I didn't do anything wrong. Nothing except maybe daring to talk to your boyfriend when you weren't around. But sure, I was the paranoid one when I didn't want you guys to go on cinema dates alone." He laughed. "So what is it you really want? I know you, Sam. You wouldn't just have come here to apologize."

"Why do you think I'm here?" There was something defiant about Sam now.

"You are you here cause you want something." He turned his head. "You look like shit. Like you haven't slept and eaten in weeks. And you look desperate, so I'm guessing there's trouble in paradise. Maybe being with Castiel isn't all that. Maybe now, the honeymoon phase is over, you're starting to see how much being with an angel can fuck you up. Maybe I'm not the only one capable of running relationships into the ground."

He hated the satisfaction with which the words left his mouth and the hope he felt at the same time.

Something broke in Sam's eyes and for a moment there was only contempt, in the next pity and Dean wasn't sure which he found worse.

"Well." Sam shook his head slowly. "I'm surprised that this time you're not accusing me of having another child."

"You're too old." Dean paused. "And besides, you wouldn't have come to me if you were expecting. You and Cas would throw a party."

"Dean, I -" Sam breathed in deeply. "Castiel and I got married."

"You mean you and Jimmy Novak."

Putting it into more abstract terms helped a tiny bit. But Dean still couldn't ignore the earthquake under his feet, or the way the walls seemed to collapse around him.

"Yes, of course. And I meant: we went to the courthouse to get a certificate. We didn't have a wedding or anything."

"Oh, well, in that case, of course I don't mind that you didn't let me know. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart."

"What was I supposed to do? Invite you? You obviously wouldn't have wanted to be there."

He stopped listening to him and turned away. Castiel had married Sam. Was that really surprising to him? Castiel had had a child with Sam too. Something he had never wanted from Dean. Why not this too?

"It's not what you think. We only did it for legal reasons. We needed to make sure that - "

"Go."

"Dean, please, there's something else I have to tell you."

"Are you deaf?" Dean shouted. "I want you to leave. Now."

For a moment, Dean believed Sam would talk back. He opened his lips again, but then he shook his head and pointed to tote back. "I'll leave you the pie."

Then he went to the door and was gone.

* * *

"I don't think it's the cylinder block."

They both stood so close to the opened engine that their arms touched while they worked.

"Me neither, but where does that weird noise come from then?“

He used the screwdriver to push the cables aside while shining the flashlight in his other hand into the dark.

"Maybe a dead animal climbed into the engine and croaked there?"

She shrugged. "Right, but if it's dead, how could it still be making a noise?"

"Maybe it's the ghost of a dead animal?" He laughed but soon became serious again."Can you hand me that wrench over there?"

"You don't seriously want to remove the battery?" she asked, but handed him the wrench anyway.

"I needed to check it anyway. And don’t start complaining again." He pauses. "You better spend your time coming up with a good excuse for when your parents show up here and drag you into their car."

"Um, how about: I don't care about their crap? It's not fair for them to change my plans at the last minute? I'm almost sixteen? They would both prefer to be alone without me anyway?"

"Charlie." Now Dean emerged from the depth of the engine compartment.

"What? You know it's true. They'd agreed that I could stay with you over the summer. But then they had this brilliant idea to get married. I mean they didn't even ask me about it!"

"Yeah, you know, that's generally a decision only made by two people."

"Why do you always have to defend Sam?" She rolled her eyes. "You think their bourgeois act is bullshit yourself. Why do they need to plan a stupid family trip right now, when they knew you and I had plans. Why don't they just go to the two of them? I don't want to be a part of that crap."

"Charlie."

"Yeah, that's my name." She looked at the screwdrivers lined up in the toolbox. "Let's just stop thinking about my messed up parents. I mean, life is good: I don't have school, I'm free. We're getting your Baby all new and shiny, and then I can go and look for a case for us on the Internet."

She picked up a pair of pliers.

"And now, let's see if there isn't a dead animal somewhere in the engine after all."

* * *

"Cas, I'm sorry I didn't manage to convince Charlie. I should have - "

"Do not worry about it."

Castiel looked as young as the day they had first met. It shouldn't feel just as ambivalently magnetic to see him again. The need to stroke over his cheek should have evaporated long ago.

"I understand her in a way. The need to stay with you. I was wondering if..."

Had Castiel's eyes always looked so sad?

"What were you wondering?" Dean asked.

It felt as if the world had stopped turning for a moment.

"Oh, nothing. There's just..." Castiel now looked straight into his eyes and into his soul. "I can't stop wondering how we would have gone on if I hadn't let you go." He took a deep breath. "No day goes by that I don't miss you, Dean. I..." He didn't get any further because that was the moment when Dean kissed him. One painfully long second passed until Castiel returned his kiss.

"Dean." Something changed in his voice, became brighter and more excited. "You have to fight it!"

Wait a minute. This wasn't Castiel's voice at all.

"Charlie!"

The moment he spoke this thought, the blue of the sky grew bright like a photo filter and Castiel, who blinked at him one last time with his melancholy blue eyes, was overlaid with a white light.

When Dean opened his eyes, he looked into Charlie's relieved face.

"Thank God! I thought the Djinn poison had gotten you so far away that I wouldn't be able to get you back!"

The bare concrete floor pressed uncomfortably into his back. All of this, the cold that crept through his limbs, the weaknesses that paralyzed his muscles and especially the knowledge of what he had lost, had never possessed, made him wish for a moment that he hadn't woken up at all.

"I'm okay."

"Mhm."

He let her help him up.

"If you ignore the fact that I let myself be duped by this fucking Djinn like a baby. Speaking of." He turned around nervously. "He should still be here somewhere. Or -"

He never got around to asking his question, nor did Charlie manage to answer him, because at that moment a middle-aged man came up to her. He clapped his hands slowly.

"Quite an interesting show, but now it's over."

"The hotel owner!" Charlie looked for Dean's eyes and pulled out a knife at the same time. "Did you figure it out?"

"Not in time."

He looked around in panic for the bag with the knife soaked in lamb's blood and was relieved to find that it lay only a few feet away from him on the ground. He threw himself towards it. His fingertips were already touching the rough fabric.

"Not so fast."

Dean cried out as the man's shoe cracked his finger bones. Then he felt a hand on the back of his neck, and his limbs sagged away.

The next thing he saw out of the corner of his eye was Charlie, throwing herself at the man from behind. Before she had reached him, he whirled around. Blue light that lit his fingertips flooded the room. Charlie tried to dive away under him, but she wasn't quick enough. Her knife fell to the ground as he grabbed her by the neck and lifted her up.

Even though she had inherited Sam's size and was anything but small, her feet were hanging in the air now. Her whimpering broke Dean's heart. If he could only move a muscle. His body was paralyzed, only his mind was awake and doomed to watch on helplessly.

"I'll be quick, sweet girl," the man whispered close to her face. "I'll give you a wonderful dream."

Charlie's eyes were on fire. Nothing about her at that moment reminded Dean of Sam anymore, but everything of Castiel. Back when they had hardly known each other and Castiel had not been very different from the other angels who had come to fight their final battle on earth.

Power let the air evaporate.

"What are you?"

The Djinn pulled his hand back as if he had burned himself. Her gaze was still intimidating. Dean could see the blue light clearly behind her eyes.The Djinn probably saw it too, even if he tried not to show his uncertainty.

"You are the nephilim everyone is looking for." He circled her. "I didn't think you really existed. It all sounded like one of those scary stories. I mean, a human being and an angel?" He shook his head. "There are good reasons why it is forbidden for any breed to mix."

"You will see how real I am when I lean over your dying body and my face is the last thing you see."

"Big words for a small girl trembling with fear."

"You shouldn't project so much."

She also started to circle him. Dean realized how quickly her chest rose and fell.

"I touched you, did you forget? I know everything about you."

Dean had to help her. He focused on moving his body and actually managed to twist his little finger. He was able to overcome the effect of the poison. All he needed was just a little bit more time.

"Say, how does it feel to be unloved and unwanted by everyone?“

Dean understood what the Djinn's plan was and hoped Charlie wouldn't fall for it.

"As a blood-drinking monster, you should know best."

Dean was able to move all of his fingers now.

"People fear us so much that they have written legends about us." He had come closer. "But I'm not alone. There are many of us. Women, men and children. But how does it feel to be the only one of your kind?" He was still smiling. "The angels: to say they hate you is almost an understatement. And the humans?" He shrugged. "You can go to as many 'save the world' meetings you want, you will never be one of them. They can feel how different you are."

She didn't answer him and didn't take her eyes off him. Dean was proud. She was doing so well.

"What is it like, to know you're the one responsible for the misfortune of those close to you? You know what he dreamt about, right?"

She made the mistake of following his gaze towards Dean. The Djinn used the moment to attack her. She barely managed to slip away. He grinned at her challengingly.

"If you hadn't been born, the two would still be happy together."

Dean felt her insecurity, even though there was no change in her facial expressions. He wanted to call out to her, tell her that it wasn't true, but it would have been stupid. The whole damned plan was for the fucker to forget about Dean, so that he had the element of surprise on his side. He slowly crawled forward and touched the tote bag with his fingers. The feeling returned into his extremities with a slow tingle.

"And as for your father – well, your human father, the one you hate so much? You realize he's dying because of you?"

She scoffed. "You saw that in my head, too?"

Her voice sounded uncertain. Dean gripped the knife with both hands. Now he just had to get closer without getting noticed.

"No, that's what the witches gossip about when they're bored." There was something predatory about his smile. "They also tell of an angel walking around, promising everything to anyone who can provide him with a cure."

"You are lying."

She had given up her cover and dashed forward. That was the moment the monster had been waiting for all the time. It also shot forward, but collapsed lifelessly onto the ground the next moment as Dean's blade pierced his heart from behind.

Splashes of blood, bright as freckles, covered Charlie's pale face.

* * *

"But what if he's right?"

The country road whizzed past the car window. Wide fields and nothing else.

"He tried to mess with you. He just wanted to rattle you so you’d become careless. And honestly, he almost succeeded, too. If I hadn't been able to step in in the last second." He shook his head and shifted the gear up. He expected Charlie to talk back. For her to point out that she had saved him first. But his niece had drawn her legs towards her chest in the passenger seat. She was silent.

"Charlie, don't worry so much." He wanted to touch her shoulder, but decided against it at the last moment. "Monsters lie. Just because Sam and Cas aren't answering their phones doesn't mean anything." He tried to smile. "They're probably still enjoying their weird ass honeymoon and are too busy to look at their cell phones."

"But they meant to be back already."

Charlie's voice sounded much younger than it had a few hours ago. It reminded him of when they had all lived together in the bunker.

"Well, but you -"

The phone in Charlie's hand rang. She picked up immediately.

"Dad!"

Dean wondered which of her two fathers had called her back and why she was quiet for so long.

"You're a fucking horrible liar. You always have been." Her face reflected both anger and despair. "Why can't you tell me now?"

A street sign announced that it was still over two hundred miles to Seattle.

"Yeah, I know. I love you too." She nodded again, then hung up.

He considered asking. Didn't find the right words and looked back towards the street.

Charlie released a single sob. The feeling that spread inside him was darker and deeper than the Mariana Trench.

"Was that Sam?"

His voice sounded different too.

"No. It was Cas."

"And?"

He hated having to drag the words out of her.

She shrugged.

"He didn't actually tell me anything."

"Well, isn't that good news?"

"He gets really weird when he tries to lie, especially when he promised someone not to tell, you know that. Kind of like a child."

She raised her arms and dropped them again.

"That doesn't have to mean anything."

"He said he'd tell me once we're there." She had now turned to Dean. Tears swam in her eyes. "They're at Seattle Grace Hospital."

* * *

"When were you planning on telling me?"

It was maybe not the best opening sentence after running into a hospital room, but he didn't care. He was angry and confused. This mixture resulted in an unsavory mush that almost burst his head.

"Dean?"

Sam looked like shit. Even worse than he remembered. The edges under his eyes were dark and deep, or maybe it was because of the hospital bed. Everyone looked shit in a hospital bed.

"I meant to tell you when I came to visit."

"And then you told me about your wedding instead?" Dean scoffed.

"The whole thing didn't go like I'd planned it to."

"And Charlie? When were you gonna tell her?"

"Listen, Dean." Sam pulled himself upright by the handle. "It's not that easy. We haven't had the best relationship in recent years and... "

"And so you didn't want to tell her that you’re dying because you gave birth to her?"

"What? Who told you that?" Sam shook his head. "We don't know if this has got anything to do with her. It could be anything."

"Everyone who's ever given birth to a nephilim has died. What if Castiel's spell and the fact that you are the true vessel of an archangel only slowed it down, but couldn’t stop it?"

"The doctors think it could be a form of leukemia."

"The doctors have no idea."

"Dean, you can get sick from all kinds of things. And I didn't tell Charlie because I didn't want her to worry. I just wanted to spend a few days with her and Cas." He shook his head. "I wanted to make things right between me and her. But well..." He sighed an almost inaudible sigh. "She ran off to you."

Now Dean was the one who shook his head and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"She didn't know you were sick. She thought you just wanted to mess up her plans for the summer."

"I know."

Only the piping of this strange machine filled the silence. What did Sam need it for anyway?

"I asked Castiel to marry me so that it would be easier when I'd be in the hospital. And so it would be easier with Charlie when -" Sam paused. "He’ll still be overwhelmed by all of it. He'll still need help, and so will Charlie."

"Stop this."

"But -"

"What is this?" Dean clenched his hand into a fist. "Are you just trying to tell me you only married Cas because of some bureaucratic advantages? Are you kidding me? And what about this fucked up peace offering! You're telling me I get to inherit him once you're dead?"

He laughed, then got up and went to the window. It was important that Sam could only see his back.

"That's not what I meant at all." Sam swallowed. There was a long pause. "I’m just trying to fix what I still can about my worst mistake."

"You mean Charlie?"

Sam shook his head.

"Letting you down."

The beginning of darkness brought Dean's reflection onto the window. The image that was reflected in the pane looked so different from what he had in his head when he closed his eyes.

"Do you know what's the most fucked up thing about all of this?" Now he turned to Sam. "That by pulling your little 'I'm about to die' stunt, you're putting me in a situation where I'm morally obliged to finally give you the absolution that you crave. But you know what? I won't play that game."

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me. I probably wouldn't be able to either."

"You won't die. I won't allow you to die and neither will Cas." He took a few steps towards Sam. "Stop whining and start fighting this!"

"And what would you have me do? Look for another miracle healer? Don't you think we've tried everything we could think of?"

Now there were tears pooling in Sam's eyes.

"Anything is better than just lying around here and giving up."

"You think I wanted this?" Sam shook his head. "You think I enjoy being the center of attention like this?“ He took a breath. "I love Castiel, I really do. And I would have loved to have had a few more years with him, even if -" He paused. "And Charlie. She's so smart and strong and beautiful, and I wish I could see her when she -"

"You are not going to die."

"Maybe you're right." Sam's voice was firm now. Maybe he was just exhausted. "This is a very good hospital and maybe they or we will find a solution and everything will be fine, but maybe not." Sam reached for Dean's hand with an intensity that startled him. "All I want to say is that I might die, whether we like it or not." He swallowed. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you. Not after what I did. But still." He took a deep breath. "Please Dean, take care of them when I can't do it anymore. You have to protect Charlie."

That was the moment when Dean tore his hand away, turned around and left without another word. He slammed the door behind him on his way out. He couldn't be here any longer. He had to get out of here.

"Don't you think I've tried everything to help him?"

"You are much weaker than me!" Someone else might have considered her hands on her hips as defiant. Dean knew better: Charlie was desperate. There was a storm raging inside her and this gesture was the last thing that held her together. "I can save him. I know I can."

"You cannot help him and your grace is -"

They both fell silent when they saw him coming. Castiel glanced at him with a sad and spooked look on his face.

"Dean?" Charlie turned around to him too. Dean averted his eyes.

"What happened? How's Dad doing?"

"Nothing happened. I just need to go and grab myself a coffee," Dean said into the direction of the wall. "You know me, without coffee I'm useless. I’ll be right back."

He walked down the hall towards the elevator. He heard Charlie shout his name after him, but he ignored it.

He drove the elevator down. Every face that he passed on his way out of the hospital seemed like a provocation. It was only outside, near the emergency entry that he gave way to his feelings. With a loud grunt he smashed his fist into the stone wall. He ignored the looks of the two waiting people who stood around the entrance area smoking.

Dean hit the wall again and again, until he couldn't feel his knuckles anymore. When he let his arm fall to the side, there were smears of blood all over the brownstone.


	16. Year 16

_"Sam."_

_Castiel sat down on the couch beside him. He left a small gap between, their thighs inches apart. He folded his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry it went this way. I know you had hoped to clear things up with Dean."_

_Sam's head shake was barely visible. He had his chin against his chest, and his body seemed sunken in. "It's not your fault, Cas."_

_"I think it is. At least I am to blame for Dean's anger. I should have been more careful with my words."_

_Sam ran a hand over his face, then he looked up. "What did you say to him?"_

_"I asked him if he was absolutely certain that he wasn't interested in rekindling our relationship."_

_Sam didn't move at all. He was perfectly calm, not taking his eyes off Castiel._

_"What did he say?"_

_"He didn't really give me a clear answer. We were still talking when you called us to dinner."_

_Sam huffed softly._

_"I wish the visit had ended differently," Castiel continued. "I wish Dean hadn't left so quickly. But maybe we can also draw something positive from what has happened. What Dean said at the end..."_

_It took a certain amount of courage to reach out for Sam's hand, which lay on his knee, and to pull it towards him._

_"Please do not misunderstand me. I am very grateful to share my life with you in the way we already do. And the times we have been physically close have made me very happy."_

_"Cas." This time Sam shook his head properly. "I really don't think I want to talk about this right now."_

_"I think now is the perfect time to talk about this and to clarify things."_

_Sam pulled his hand away and leaned back against the couch._

_"And what does that mean? Clarify things? Nothing has changed. You still love him. He still loves you."_

_"And if that is the case, it's impossible for you to ever be in a real relationship with me?"_

_"I don't - I just can't do this right now," Sam muttered._

_Castiel slid off the couch and knelt on the ground in front of him. Sam looked at him in surprise, but let Castiel take his hands in his._

_"I cannot deny that I have strong feelings for Dean and that this will most likely never change." He felt that Sam wanted to pull his hands away, but Castiel wouldn't let him. "But I think you overestimate the relevance of this for you and me."_

_"Oh really?" Sam sounded cynical. Castiel didn't like it when he became cynical. He preferred Sam when he was the way he fell in love with him. Honest, empathetic, open and vulnerable._

_"I love you, Sam." He didn't let go of his hands, pulled them closer to him so that Sam also had to lean in a little. "You know that sometimes it is difficult for me to really understand the complexities of human emotions and social conditions. But I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I think I understand that your problem, or at least one of the problems, is the thought that you could be my second choice."_

_"No, that's not - " Sam squirmed on the couch and made a move to get up. But Castiel held his hands too firmly and Sam relaxed again, albeit with some frustration on his face._

_"Let me assure you: You are not my second choice. I love you. Completely. You make me happy. Through you and my feelings for you, I've gotten to know and understand things that were previously foreign to me."_

_"And what about your special bond with Dean? Didn't you give up everything for him? Didn't you rebel for him? Have you not changed and morphed your whole life to be with him? And: Wouldn't you still be with him if he hadn't broken up with you?"_

_The light from the couch lamp made Sam's eyes glow intensely hazel._

_"Yes," Castiel said after a while. The hurt look on Sam's face hurt him too. "I would probably still be with him. However, I believe that the deterioration of my relationship with Dean can be blamed – at least in large extent - on my love for you, or rather my wrong handling of it. All these years..." Castiel paused, as he struggled for the right words. "After Charlie's creation, I was faithful to him. I did my best not to cause him more harm and hurt. But if I'm being honest, I know that some of his accusations against me were true. I already loved you with the same intensity that I feel now. I knew you didn't feel the same for me. But if you had - " He was a little ashamed to tell the truth. "If you had asked me to, I would have left with you."_

_Sam looked a little overwhelmed._

_"In a way, it was easier to love you knowing you didn't feel the same. At least I thought I knew I would not have to disappoint Dean again."_

_"I’m sorry," Sam said to his surprise._

_"There's nothing to be sorry for. You are not to blame for any of this. I made a lot of mistakes in my relationship with Dean. But I believe that there were also many things that didn't work because of how Dean and I operated as a couple."_

_Sam didn't say anything._

_"The mere existence of love between two people is not enough. A functioning relationship also requires trust, compatibility, honesty... I don't just love you, Sam. I like you; I trust you; we work well together; I have a family with you. All of this to say: you are not my second choice."_

_Sam looked doubtful._

_"What can I do to make you believe me?" Castiel asked._

_"No, you don't get it, Cas. I do believe you."_

_"But?"_

_"But it doesn't feel right."_

_"It doesn't feel right to be with me?"_

_"No. I mean, yes. Fuck." When he pulled his hands away to rub them over his face. "All of this... all of this means that Dean was right. That he was right not to trust me."_

_"But you didn't do anything wrong."_

_"Yes, I did!" Sam's features hardened. "I fell in love with you and that's the worst thing I could do to him."_

_"And you're blaming yourself for that?"_

_"Who else?"_

_"Nobody. Nobody is to blame for such things."_

_Cas stroked over Sam's knee._

_“Are you trying to tell me Dean doesn't feel like shit because of me? Because of us?"_

_"And because of himself..."_

_"Alright," Sam admitted begrudgingly. "But even if he's not innocent in the whole thing – this here?" He pointed to himself and then to Cas. "If we do this, if we do this for real, it will break his heart."_

_"Your brother is strong."_

_Sam huffed. “Does it make you feel better to tell yourself that? Don't you feel guilty at all?"_

_"Yes, of course I do. I want Dean to be happy, and knowing that I've caused him to be unhappy burdens me." He shook his head slowly. "But the damage is already done. Dean is unhappy either way, but you... We don't have to be unhappy just because he is. Please let me try."_

_"Let you try what?"_

_"Please let me try to make you happy."_

_"Cas, no - " His voice was pained._

_"Sam. Nobody benefits from you punishing yourself. Not even Dean. In the end, he also wants you to be happy."_

_"Don't say that. Not like this he doesn't."_

_"What are you afraid of? What do you think will happen? If Dean -"_

_"It's not just that," Sam said all of a sudden. "I value your friendship too much. And if I did this – you will leave me. You will - your feelings for me will change. You will miss him more and more, you will want different things again. And anyway." Sam ran a hand over his face. "Cas, look at me. Look at my life and what I am and what I have done - why would you really want this?"_

_"Oh, Sam."_

_Castiel rose out of his crouch. He felt uncertain when he put his hand on Sam's face, but when it remained there, Castiel closed in. Sam returned the kiss tentatively at first, but then he put his hands around Cas' waist, pulled him towards him and let their combined weight push him deep into the cushions._

_It wasn't as if this had been the final moment when all of Sam's insecurities had vanished. But it was the moment, Castiel believed, that Sam had decided to give them a real chance and accept their love for what it was._

* * *

Angels didn't sleep. Angels didn't dream. But angels remembered; they had a far superior memory than humans. In this very moment Castiel cursed the fact that made forgetting impossible. Other times he wallowed in his memories, and was grateful that they were so strong that he could simply close his eyes and forget where he really was.

Re-living the good memories was bittersweet. The bad memories were different all together, and came much more frequently. The moments when he had treated Sam unfairly. The times they had fought. Or when Castiel had concealed the truth.

The worst part were the doubts casting a shadow over everything. He hadn't given Sam a choice at the time. Not about pregnancy, and thus not about anything else. If Castiel hadn't forced a child unto him, Sam would never have fallen in love with him. And more importantly: Without Castiel's unsolicited action, Sam would still be alive.

Castiel opened his eyes and rubbed over his forehead.

Sitting on the sofa in the bunker still felt strange, like a relic from another time. But it was still better than when he'd stayed in their apartment, where every room and object painfully reminded him that Sam was gone.

Besides, nothing had tied them to Seattle anymore after Charlie had dropped out of school. Well, dropping out was maybe the wrong word choice. She had stopped attending classes, but she already had her High School diploma and she had enough credit for college. She'd said there was no point for her to stay and Castiel had been unable to contradict her. He too didn't see any reason for her to continue; it had been Sam's insistence to send her to school in the first place.

The past year Castiel had only been able to focus on one goal: not letting the pain gain so much control over him, not letting the lethargy take over, so he would have enough strength to find a way to get Sam back.

Sam had asked him not to. He had asked him to take care of Charlie and live his life as best and happily as he could. But Sam had said these things in a way that had made it clear that he knew Castiel wouldn't truly rest. That there was nothing that could have prevented Castiel from continuing to search for Sam. No matter the cost.

All the things they had already tried... The hope that shot up in him every time anew. The disappointment that settled around him like a familiar blanket when it didn't work yet again.

It would have been rational to give up. He knew this, but he was unable to.

He rubbed over his eyes and looked around. He had once felt this place to be his home, but it hadn't felt like this way for a long time. And it shouldn't: His home was gone. His home was with Sam.

"Hey."

He didn't when Dean had joined him in the library. He stood next to one of the bookshelves, somewhat indecisive. As if he didn't dare step closer before Castiel gave him the okay.

Nobody understood his grief as well as Dean did, Castiel knew.

Charlie's grief was different. More determined and angry, more active.

"Hello, Dean."

"How did it go?"

Castiel shook his head

"Once again, I found people claiming to know his whereabouts, but I'm not one step closer to finding his heaven."

Dean sat down in the armchair across from him. He kneaded his hands. "But we've seen it, Sam's and my heaven."

"Heaven doesn't work that way, Dean."

"What about Bobby and everybody else? If you get to them, then maybe –"

Castiel shook his head.

"I don't know where they are. The other angels don't want me to find Dean's whereabouts, so I can't do it on my own. And trying to find an angel willing to help me has not been fruitful. I have to think of something else."

"Like what?" Dean sounded worried.

"If we had something to bargain with the other angels."

"No. You can't seriously want to hand over Charlie?"

"Of course not! Sam would never forgive me if I got her involved in any way."

Dean nodded, noticeably reassured.

"How is she doing?" Castiel asked.

"More or less the same."

"What has happened in the last –" He had to count how long he had been away. "In the last 3 weeks?"

"You want to hear the death statistics?"

"That many?"

"Phew, you have no idea." Dean shook his head. "She's honestly the best hunter I've ever seen in my life. But her anger is – Well." He changed the position of his feet on the floor. "I get her. I feel the same."

Dean looked pensive. Castiel wondered if he should get up and sit down beside him. If it would help or make Dean feel worse.

"She's helped me get back to full speed by the way," Dean said. "She can't really make me younger, but I'm as good as new."

"I'm glad to hear it," Castiel said. "Is she talking to you?"

"You mean, has she mentioned any new crazy ideas on how to get Sam back?"

"Yes. But I also just meant to ask if she talks to you. About how she is. What concerns her. Her feelings."

Dean nodded. "I know she wants to talk to you too. She's not angry with you, she just can't –"

"She just can't get over the fact that I'm to blame for his death."

"She doesn't blame you."

“Yes, she does. And she is right in doing so."

"That's bullshit."

They had been here before. There was no point in repeating these conversations over and over again.

"And how are you?" Castiel asked instead.

"Great." Dean looked down at the floor, rubbed over hair. He looked up slowly. "You?"

Castiel tried to smile. It felt strange.

"I'm unchanged. I am disappointed that I didn't succeed but I'm not surprised."

"Cas." Dean cleared his throat. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a while... If you do find Sam: What's your end goal?"

Castiel blinked. He didn't understand the question.

"Once I've located him, I can get him back."

"Alright. So that's still your plan, bringing him back?"

"I don’t understand. What else should I be trying to do?"

“I thought maybe you were thinking of staying there. With Sam, in heaven."

"Even if that were possible, I would not leave Charlie on earth alone."

"What if she'd want to go to heaven too?" Dean gave him a long, sad look.

"All of this is extremely speculative. My primary goal is to bring Sam back to earth."

"Yeah?" Dean didn't blink. "Why?"

"Why? Because that's what he'd want."

"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "He was pretty clear that he didn't want us meddling. And are you sure you two wouldn't be happier in his heaven? What's keeping you all down here?"

Castiel shook his head.

"As long as you're alive, Sam wishes to return."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Dean got up. "Well, whatever. Either way, we'd have to track him down first."

"Where are you going?" Castiel asked.

"Letting Charlie know you're back. Or have you already talked to her?"

Castiel shook his head. He felt slightly ashamed that it had not been his first instinct to go see her. It would have been different if he had come with more positive news.

"Right," Dean said.

Castiel stood up and went over to him. "Thank you for looking after her while I was gone. I know that she wanted to join me. But I didn't want to endanger her."

"I know." Dean nodded. "You don't have to thank me. We're family."

They were silent.

Sam's absence hung above everything, had infused every inch of their lives.

When Castiel watched Charlie and Dean eat - he himself didn't eat anymore, he no longer saw any reason to - he couldn't help but imagine Sam sitting next to them. How differently he had held the cutlery; how his jaw had moved ever so slightly while he'd chewed. How much Castiel would give to see him once more in an everyday situation like this. Watching him wake up. The moment he was about to pull his pajama top over his head, and pushed the blanket aside to crawl into bed.

He missed everything about Sam. The occasional irritated note in his voice. The know-it-all attitude he sometimes had. Even the passive aggressiveness that had sometimes come over Sam when he was stressed.

Castiel hesitated and looked up at Dean. He knew they were both thinking about Sam.

He suppressed the urge to hug Dean, as he had suppressed it so many times before. It had become commonplace to recognize these needs and push them away.

He couldn't say why he didn't. Whether it was a guilty conscience or out of fear of being rejected. Or, and that was the thesis that seemed most likely to him - that he would not be able to stop. That once he'd get back a bit of human closeness, he wouldn't be able to let go.

"Are you alright, Cas?" Dean asked. "I mean, I know you're not alright. None of us are."

"You ask if I'm fine except for the fact that Sam is missing?“

"I guess."

"Sorry. I don't want to sound cynical. I know you're not faring much better than me."

"I don't know about that." Dean was trying to act tougher than he was.

"I know how important Sam is to you. I don't want you to think I don't take your pain seriously or that I believe that mine is a priority. It's just difficult for me to think of other things until I know where he is, what he's doing.“

Dean pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked up. "Are you sure that Sam is in heaven?“

"He's definitely not in hell, if that's what you mean."

"And you're sure of that?"

Castiel felt his heart rate increase. "Why should Sam be in hell?" The thought was not new to him. But it couldn't be true. And the last time he had died, Sam had gone to heaven. Why should now be different?

Dean raised his arms in a gesture that was meant to soothe.

"I'd just feel a lot better if we knew for sure that he was in heaven living through a Best Of of his memories than, well, burning in hell."

"But what reason would there even be for him to be in hell?" Castiel moved closer to Dean. The anger that struck him originated in fear and grief, but that didn't make the feeling less urgent. "Sam is a good person. One of the best I know."

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched. He spoke slowly and in a deep voice when he answered now.

"All I'm saying is that Sam might have done a few things some might consider a sin."

"He didn't do anything that would make him a bad person," Castiel replied. He shook his head slowly. "How can you even speak of him his way?"

"Are you serious?" Dean's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about what I think about Sam."

"Wasn't this an attempt to express your discomfort about its inadequacy?"

"I know that you loved him –"

"No. That I love him. He still exists. It doesn't matter that he might not be there in a physical self, but he still exists!"

"I know that you loved him," Dean repeated. "But you've really gone off the rails if you think you can tell me something about what kind of person Sam was. I know him better than anyone. I know him better than I know myself."

"Then how can you accuse him of such things?"

"I’m not accusing him of anything. But you know what heaven is like! You know how they are. Sam fathered a damn nephilim. Isn't that still a cardinal sin? How should I know if that gets him a place in hell or not?"

"But that wasn't him, it was me!"

"Oh yeah, right. And you think heaven sees it that way too?"

"Dean." He grew weary of this conversation. "I'm sure Sam is in heaven. I know it because..."

He knew it because he couldn't bear for it to be any different. That was the truth. Dean was right.

Charlie walked into the library, sat down on the sofa and only then looked up at him, as if she'd only noticed him.

"You're barely home and you guys are already fighting?"

"We're not fighting," Dean said.

"Hello, Charlie," Castiel said.

She raised her hand in greeting. "So I'm guessing this means you don't have any good news?"

In the beginning she had been silent, but after a few weeks her grief had turned into a deep rage, which she projected onto the entire universe in general, and Castiel specifically.

She nodded. "That's what I figured. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Or you wouldn't have come on your own." She rolled her eyes. "Has now finally come the point where you guys let me do the heavy lifting?"

"I know that now that you can fully use your grace, and you are a lot stronger and more powerful than me, you think it will be easier for you to find him. But these things cannot be solved with strength alone."

Her head snapped around. “Are you saying I'm too stupid to find him?"

"Of course not."

"Of course that's not what Cas wanted to say.“ Dean sat next to her on the couch. "You are strong, you are incredibly strong, but you don't have full control over yourself yet. Just think about what happened yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" Castiel asked, but a quick glance from Dean silenced him.

"That was just because I was so frustrated," Charlie said. "I just lost control for one tiny second."

Dean snorted sympathetically. "Yeah, I get that. But imagine how frustrated you will be when you're trying to find Sam in heaven and it doesn't go the way you want... Do you think you'll have everything under control then? I mean, they were pretty dead after what you did to them."

"So?" The face she was making now painfully reminded Castiel of Sam. He looked away as she spoke. "If I find him, then it won't matter if I lose control for a second. I have nothing left to lose anyway. Anything would be worth it if Dad finally came back. I mean, supposedly I can bring everyone back to life and heal them. Why shouldn't that work with him too?"

"You couldn't cure him either," Castiel said. "We do not know why. But therefore it seems unlikely that even if you found him, you could bring him back to life."

"Oh, but you could?"

"Hey, calm down," Dean put a firm arm around her shoulder. It was a gesture that Charlie would never have tolerated from Castiel. She leaned closer towards Dean. "There's no point in blaming each other, okay?" Dean said.

"I know. I just want..."

"You want something to happen. Right now. I get it. I know the feeling so well. But Cas is right. Rash actions aren't going to help us. What do you think Sam would feel like if something happened to you while you were trying to find him? He would never forgive himself – or us."

She was silent.

Dean rubbed over her shoulder. "Hey." He pulled her close, and she put her head on his shoulder. "You remember what I promised you, don't you?"

"Mhm-hm."

"And have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No."

He kissed her hair and then gently pushed her away.

She smiled almost apologetically. Then she stood up, turned around to Castiel and told him she was glad he was back, before she left the library.

Castiel stared after her. Then he looked at Dean.

He didn't want to imagine what would have happened if Dean hadn't been there for Charlie. It had been him who got her to speak for the first time after Sam's death. Who got her to eat again and to laugh.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Dean asked. He got up and brushed imaginary dust off his jeans.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stare." He pulled himself together. "Thank you very much, Dean."

"Don't thank me. She's my responsibility, too."

"I know. I didn't mean to question that."

Dean shrugged. It looked almost casual as he stepped over to him. He opened his mouth, closed it again. He pointed towards the kitchen.

"I guess you don't want to eat?"

Castiel shook his head.

"But I would like to keep you two company."

"Suit yourself."

* * *

Like always, none of them had truly believed that he would return with good news.

Castiel had set out anyway. He would always have left if there was the slightest chance that it would bring him closer to Sam.

Still. Doing business with a witch had been a particularly stupid idea. But losing a powerful book of spells to get Sam back had seemed a good deal.

Except that now Castiel was without the book and still without Sam. Even in his desperation, he should have been able to know that it was a trap.

He had only woken up a few minutes ago. The sun was shining too brightly on his face and when he sat up and looked around he saw what appeared to be a desert with an empty road to the side of him. He raised a hand and felt the sticky blood on his forehead.

Something vibrated. How strange that she hadn't thought it was necessary to take his phone from him.

Dean's voice sounded relieved when he answered. "Cas, what the hell happened? Why didn't you answer your goddamn phone?”

"I was unconscious. It was a trap. I should have known better."

"Are you okay?" Dean's voice broke and something in Castiel's stomach turned at the tone. He didn't want to think about what it meant.

"I will be."

"Great. So..." Dean exhaled heavily. "Then you better come here asap."

Castiel sat up, one hand in the sand.

"Why? What happened?"

"Charlie is gone."

"Gone how?"

"I think she went to heaven."

"You think?"

"Well, she’s not here and she didn't leave a message or anything. But you know how she kept talking about how everything was going too slowly. That she would need to take things into her own hands."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that she is in heaven. There are a thousand places she could be."

"I guess... Just come here and we can figure it out."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough yet."

Dean breathed out loudly into the receiver in frustration.

"Where are you? I'll come and get you."

Castiel looked around. Nothing indicated where he was, but he could feel the coordinates. Fortunately, he was still in Kansas and it only took a few hours until the Impala came to stand in front of him.

Dean got out and left the door open.

He held his hand up to the sun, frowned, and looked at Castiel with a worried expression on his face. "You okay?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I'm just a little weak still."

Dean looked surprised himself when he stepped up and hugged Castiel. Only after a moment's hesitation did Castiel return the gesture.

Dean's hands felt warm as they stroked over Castiel's back.

"I’m sorry. I should have figured she was going to leave."

Castiel shook his head, his arms still wrapped around Dean. "It's a miracle that you kept her from leaving for as long as you did."

When they broke apart Dean bowed his head and looked at him carefully from under his lashes. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean.. physically?"

"Yes." Castiel rubbed his forehead. "Yes, it's just the fact that on top of losing Sam, I've now managed to lose my daughter as well."

Dean laughed a slightly hollow laugh.

"It's not really the same thing." He touched Castiel's shoulder. “She's probably not gone for too long. Who knows, maybe she was just bluffing. Maybe she just went out for ice cream and she's back once we get to the bunker."

It didn't sound as if Dean really believed it, but Castiel could still appreciate his attempt to cheer him up.

Charlie wasn't in the bunker. Of course, she wasn't

"Anything on angel radio?" Dean's jaw was tense.

Castiel looked down. "They say they got her."

"So she's in heaven?"

Castiel nodded.

"At least we know where she is, right?"

"They say - " Castiel swallowed. "They say she's fine, but that if I try to go after her, she dies."

"Bullshit. She is much stronger than all the other angels."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean she is invincible. There is strength in numbers."

Castiel felt numb as he walked into Charlie's room and sat down on her bed. He put his face into his hands.

It was probably because the witch had robbed him of his last strength and he felt terribly human, but in this very moment he felt the pain and the lack of his family even more than usual.

He only realized that he was crying when his hands started to get wet. The odd sound filling the room were sobs escaping his own throat.

"Cas, man, look –"

"How could I fail them so?"

He looked up. He had to look terrible because Dean was visibly startled. Maybe he had never seen him cry like that before. Had he ever seen him cry before?

"You didn't fail them."

"I'm to blame for Sam's death. And I didn't manage to protect my daughter. Tell me how is any of it not my fault? ”

"You didn't know Sam would die..."

The mattress dipped as Dean sat down next to him. His face was very close when Castiel looked up at him.

"Do you really not believe that this was all my fault?"

"I really don't."

"But you have to hate me for... for everything I've done."

A confused smile appeared on Dean's lips.

"I should, shouldn't I? But I don't hate you. I couldn't hate you a few years ago, so how could I now that you're unhappy too?" He laughed without humor and shook his head.

"What do I do now?" The tears on Castiel's hands and cheeks were starting to dry. "Dean, what should I do?"

"We'll get them both back. I swear."

For a brief moment, he believed that Dean would lean forward and kiss him. And he knew that he would not have pulled away.

But Dean only tried on an encouraging smile.

"If it's the last thing I do, Cas, I'm going to them back."

"No." Castiel shook his head. " Don't say that. I can't lose you too."

"You won't." He squeezed Castiel's hand. "I promise you I won't leave. And Charlie and Sam will be back sooner than you think."

* * *

Dean had been mistaken.

Two months later, they were still no step closer to finding a solution. Castiel had rejected Dean's proposal involving the selling of his soul; it had led to a major argument that had lasted over a week.

Dean threw the book he had been leafing through onto the floor. He seemed to make a motion to get up from the couch and then thought better of it.

"I don't get it. How is there no one willing and able to help us? I mean: The demons are all keen on getting their hands on Charlie. Shouldn't they be trying to find a way to get to her too?"

Castiel didn't bother to say that just because demons wanted to get his hands on his daughter didn't mean they had any idea how to go about it.

Dean had been drinking. The half-empty bottle of whiskey was still on the table. Castiel had been gone for most of the day and it seemed Dean had spent the time alone as miserably as he had.

"Come on, surprise me, Cas," Dean said. "Tell me you got good news for once."

"I have no news."

“Awesome." Dean got up. "What the hell are we doing here, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean cocked his head slightly to one side, as if it should be obvious what he meant.

"What we're doing here is just occupational therapy."

It took Castiel a moment to understand what Dean was saying.

"You want to give up?"

"No, of course I'm not giving up."

"But you've lost all hope of succeeding."

Dean looked up at him. His eyes were red. "And you haven't?"

"I can't afford to lose hope."

Dean huffed and reached for the bottle. The lid fell off and rolled over the floor. "Just me then." He took a gulp and grimaced.

"You promised me we'd find her."

"Well, that's the thing about promises. You keep them until you don't."

Castiel walked towards Dean to take the bottle out of his hand and put it back on the table.

"You're not giving up."

Dean glanced at him with mild curiosity.

"If you were giving up, you wouldn't still be here. You wouldn't have waited for me to return."

"Oh yeah? Where else would I have been?"

"I don’t know."

Dean shrugged in gesture as nothing mattered anymore.

"I'm here because of you. I promised Sam to take care of you and Charlie, and look at what happened. If only it was about... I probably would have left a long time ago."

He took a few steps towards Castiel. "This is so fucking ridiculous," he said and tapped against Castiel's chest.

"What is?"

"You know how much I want to get Sam back, but a part of me –" Dean laughed bitterly again. "A part of me is okay with it. I mean, what do you think?" He stepped closer again, until Castiel stood with his back against the wall. "Do you think if he were here you'd let me stand so close? Wouldn't you have pushed me away a long time ago?"

"You're drunk, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I know I am. But not drunk enough to excuse any of this." He shook his head. “Do you remember when you told me that our love was, what, immortal? Predestined?"

"Dean-"

Of course he remembered.

"I thought about that a lot over the years. Pretty much every time when I cursed myself for the fact that I still... cared about you."

"Why would you not care?"

Dean's fingers dug into his shoulder now, pushing them deeper into the wall.

"So it wouldn't hurt so much? So I don’t have to spend the rest of my life thinking about the fact that I lost you. How many years has it been? And how can it be that it got worse rather than better over time? And then... then Sam was gone and I... I'm not even allowed to feel angry with him anymore? Now I'm supposed to feel guilty when I look at you and think that you used to be mine."

Something changed in his face. The aggression was suddenly gone.

"Look at both of us. We're just sitting around and waiting for a miracle to happen.” He exhaled heavily. The smell of alcohol on Dean's breath still felt familiar. "It's ridiculous. How alone we are, even though we're both here. Even though you promised me..."

Dean's hand moved from Castiel's shoulder over to the back of his neck and stayed there.

He looked deep into Castiel's eyes and waited.

Castiel didn't move an inch. He wanted to hear what Dean had to say. He wanted –

Dean's lips were rough as they pressed against his. The kiss was urgent and yet there was something in the touch that was careful, that asked for permission.

Castiel opened his mouth. His hands wrapped around Dean's center, pulling him close. Sensory memory was a fascinating thing - how automatically his body reacted to Dean.

* * *

_"Alright."_

_"Alright?" Castiel blinked._

_Sam's face was half pressed into the pillow, his smile hidden._

_“What does this mean? Alright?"_

_"It means: Alright, let's do it. I mean, it's probably going to be a clusterfuck and end horribly, but most relationships don't work in the long term... The odds are really stacked against us, but I want to try."_

_"Sam, but what you said earlier..."_

_Sam turned around to him completely; his hair was mussed and stood in all directions. Castiel reached out to touch it._

_Sam’s voice was very serious now. "I want to give us a real chance. That means I'll have to accept that you still have feelings for Dean. What else can I do? I love you and not just a version of you that doesn't exist. But I need some things from you for this to work."_

_"Sam, I would never disregard your terms."_

_"It sounds terrible if you say it like this, like I'm some kind of dictator. I just don't want to be constantly afraid that you'd rather be with someone else."_

_"I don't."_

_"It's probably hypocritical of me, but I don't think I could do it..."_

_Castiel reached out for him. "You won't have to."_

_Sam smiled softly. "What's the worst that can happen, right?"_


	17. Year 17

Moss grew under the willow. The green hanging off the branches formed a protective tent against the distant noises of the street, and the rays of the sun shone through only weakly. Inside the tent, they were in their own world where nobody could reach them. Sam took the woolen blanket he'd stolen from his motel bed out of his backpack and spread it out onto the floor. They were a well-rehearsed team; they understood each other without words. Dean smiled as he followed him onto the blanket and spread out his own blanket over them.

"Now we got our own place." His face was so close that Sam could count his freckles. "A place that only belongs to us."

"What happens when Dad decides we have to move again?"

He had scooted closer to his brother, leaned his head on his shoulder and soaked up his proximity like a sponge.

"Then we'll find a new secret place."

"But I don't want a new one. I don't want to leave. I want to stay here forever. With you."

Dean sat up and rummaged through his backpack.

"You too?" he asked after pulling out a pack of chocolate. Sam was silent.

"Oh, Sammy. Forever is a pretty long time, you know."

When Sam looked up, the freckled child's face had disappeared. Instead he looked into the worn face of a grown man. Sam screamed and instinctively backed away, but the stranger had already grabbed him.

"Sam, listen closely. We don't have much time. I wasn't even sure if this would work at all. If our heavens were still connected."

"Help! Dean!" Sam tried to fight the strange man off, without much success. His grip was too firm. "Please don't hurt me," Sam sobbed. "My big brother will be back in a second and he'll kill you if you hurt me."

The stranger's face smiled and looked sad at the same time.

"I know, Sam. I'm him after all. I'm Dean."

"No, you're not."

"Please listen to me. Charlie is in danger. We need your help."

"Who is Charlie?"

Everything swirled away, scenes overlapped and faded away completely. When Sam opened his eyes again, he was sitting on his bed in the bunker. Next to him, Charlie was sleeping in her crib. Her little face twitched in her sleep, as if she was dreaming or thinking hard.

"She's perfect, isn't she?" He stroked over the fingers of her small hand that she had clenched into a fist, careful not to wake her.

"Yes, she is, but –"

"You were right from the start." Sam sat down on the bed again. "You knew that I'd love her and that things would turn out okay somehow. I wouldn’t have thought it possible; I was so desperate and depressed back then." He shook his head. "Thank you for talking me out of giving her away. Thank you for being there for me when I didn't know what to do. What am I saying?" He smiled. "Thank you for everything. For all the countless times in my life when you were there for me."

He took the sleeping baby out of the bed. Her eyelids twitched, but she stayed asleep.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"I would really like to but I don't have time. I have to hurry." Dean sighed and then turned his body so that Sam had to look him in the eye. "I wish I had enough time to break this to you gently but none of this is real."

The baby in Sam's arm was gone, instead a three-year-old Charlie stuck her face through the door frame.

"Can you come play?"

"I'll be there in second, honey. Uncle Dean wants to talk to me real quick."

"He can play with us too!"

Her smile revealed her first tooth gaps. Sam felt Dean squeeze his hands in despair.

"What do you remember?"

"What kind of question is that, Dean? You're scaring me." He wanted to tear himself away, but Dean didn't let go. "We're all living together in the bunker. You and Cas, you both take care of Charlie too, for which I am really grateful for because she can be a handful. And her thirst for knowledge seems endless." He sighed. "I mean, she's only seven for God's sake."

"Charlie is seventeen."

"What?" Sam laughed. "No, she's not."

"Please, Sam, keep remembering. Think about Castiel and –" Dean paused. Something in his eyes grew sad. "Think about what he means to you."

A warm feeling spread through Sam and pictures - memories of touches, laughter and kisses - flooded him.

"I love him."

He almost whispered the words. When he opened his eyes again, the bunker was gone. He was sitting on the chocolate brown couch in his apartment in Seattle. The big city sent its background noise up to him and he was holding a steaming cup of tea. When he bowed his head he noticed the dark-haired head that was lying in his lap with his eyes closed.

"Castiel." He couldn't resist the urge to stroke over his hair. The peace that flowed through him was perfect.

"He can't hear you."

Sam sat up with a jerk. How did his brother get here? Dean's voice was clouded with pain.

"He is just a memory. But the real Castiel still loves you very much and in this very moment he is doing everything he can to get you back."

"I am so sorry."

He tried to hug him but Dean wouldn't let him.

"Don't, Sam." His eyes were still like rain. "Your heaven has always been a collection of horrible moments for me, but it doesn't matter right now. We don't have time for this. I got a shot of insulin in my heart and if I'm not back within –" He looked at his watch. "If I'm not back in the next two minutes, then I'm trapped here with you forever. Until some angels find my ass and drag me down to hell."

"I'm dead?"

The room had changed again. Sam was now in a hospital bed. Castiel sat silently in a chair while Charlie sat on the windowsill, cooling her cheeks against the window. Sam knew he couldn't reach her now.

He remembered everything.

"I’m so sorry."

It was strange to hear the same sentence that he had just uttered out of Dean's mouth.

"You shouldn't be. I had a good good life. And being here – I'm doing ok here. I think." Sam had sat up and started pulling the cables from his body. "But you, why are you doing this? Why are you putting your own life in danger to bring me back? Again? I wanted you to be happy." He carefully placed a foot onto the cold floor. "You promised."

"Sam, this isn't about you right now. It's about Charlie." Dean took a deep breath and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "You gotta believe me, I tried to protect her. But she ran away. She wanted to go to heaven to find you."

Sam put his hands over his face. My head was spinning. He felt so tired.

"She is here in heaven?"

Dean nodded.

"Something went wrong. They captured her. They threatened Castiel they would torture her if he tried to come for her. And I –" Dean looked down at himself. "I'm just human. But you... Do you still remember when we made our way through all these different heavens?" Dean smiled. "You can free yourself. You can find her."

"Dean, you have to get back into your body."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm going to find Charlie, I promise."

"I know you will."

Dean smiled again. Sam was surprised when he hugged him as tightly as if he wanted to crush him. He let it happen and even put his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean's body was already disintegrating. Sam could see the outline of the shelf through him.

"One last thing: We really miss you very much down there."

* * *

There was a part of Sam that, despite all the evidence, still hoped Dean was wrong. Sam found it easier to deal with the thought that he was losing his mind while he was amidst the people he loved than to accept that his grown daughter was in danger and that he was spending his time with nothing more than the shadows of his past.

He found a door in his heaven which took him to another door and so it went on, just like the last time he and Dean had made their way out. Only that this time he wasn't looking for the Garden of Eden and he was on his own.

When he opened the last door - the office door at his last work place - he entered a narrow corridor and had to shield his eyes from the brightness that surrounded him. Doors as far as the eye could see and there was a small sign on each one, just like on his own.

Samuel Winchester 1983 - 2029

He ran his fingertips over the numbers. Forty-six years wasn't so bad. He had gotten older than he'd ever thought possible as a child. And after he'd lived through the apocalypse and hell, there had been good in his life too, hadn't there?

With a sigh, he broke away. He didn't have time for this. This wasn't about him. He had to find the celestial prison and free Charlie. That was all that mattered.

He could feel that she had to be in the center. The only question was: In the center of what? Castiel had once told Charlie that heaven worked very differently than you would imagine, because it was not a place in the physical world. Sam took a few steps into one direction and then paused. There was no point in just walking on, he would find nothing but endless rows of doors. He needed a plan. From a distance he heard voices approaching him through the hallway. Without thinking about it, he opened the door he was standing in front of. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that it belonged to a girl named Sandy Evans, who had died when she'd been seven.

"Who are you?" she asked when he found himself in the middle of a kid's birthday party that included a bouncy castle in the garden and a huge table full of cakes and sweets. The other children continued to play and paid him no mind. "Are you the wizard?" Sandy asked.

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe you can help me: I'm looking for a door."

"A door?"

She grimaced with skepticism.

"It's a very special door. It is different from all other doors. Maybe you've seen it?"

She thought about it for a moment and then said: "You mean this one over there?"

She pointed to the brightly painted door of the tool shed. It was framed by sunflowers and it showed a painting of a rainbow on a blue background.

"Thank you." He smiled at her. "Have a nice party."

He had to cross eight more heavens - including one of a retiree who must have been a big competitive rowing enthusiast in his youth - until he finally opened a door behind which he found several prison cells that, thanks to their simplicity, reminded Sam of a Western movie. In the one furthest back he found a narrow body slumped on a cot. Her long dark hair completely covered her face.

"Charlie!"

He should have been suspicious that the door wasn't locked. But in that moment he only wanted to see his daughter. The young woman raised her face, snapped her finger, and the door closed behind Sam. In the next moment her features changed. His daughter disappeared and there sat a woman with her hair in a tidy bun.

"Sam Winchester. We haven't been introduced personally, even though I've heard a lot about you. My name is Naomi. I have been in command of heaven since God left us and since none of the archangels are there to do this job."

"No." He backed away until he felt the wall in his back. "That can’t be right. You’re dead."

"Is that what Castiel told you? He should know best that you can only kill an angel with an angel's blade." She cocked her head to the side. "Let us talk about you: It's not proper that you woke up and left your heaven. What do you think would happen if all souls did that?"

He clenched his fists.

"Where is my daughter? What have you done to her?"

"You thought we imprisoned her?" Again she looked at him with that intense angelic stare, as if she could look right into him. "That's why you broke out. I underestimated what amazing things a human heart is capable of, but you no longer have to worry about your daughter. She is our guest and not our prisoner."

He laughed.

"Yeah, of course. A guest you're keeping against her will."

"She came to us voluntarily and she stayed voluntarily." She motioned towards the free spot next to her on the cot, but Sam made no move to sit down. "Although she is cruelly disfigured by her humanity, she is still an angel and her place is in heaven." She stroked over her hair. "Of course I don't expect you, as a human, to understand the full extent of what that means." She tilted her head to the side again. "It's like an ant trying to understand the intrinsics of world history."

"If you’re telling the truth, where is she now?" he spat. "How can I be sure that she is really fine? Why would I trust you, when you've been killing nephilims for centuries?"

"You cannot be sure."

Sam felt helpless. He wouldn't be able to fight or protect himself if she attacked him. He was nothing more than a soul, unarmed and naked. But she didn't even move a musclel.

"Things change, even in heaven." She didn't sound happy when she said it. "And we're forced to adapt to these changes."

"Yeah, I'm sure you’re going to introduce an electoral democracy next."

"There are good reasons why an angel is forbidden to father a nephilim." She looked directly at him. "They are like mythical creatures in your old legends, like the Minotaur or the Harpy - cruel, powerful and difficult to control."

"We're talking about my daughter."

He crossed his arms.

"And yet you knew from the beginning how much you were disrupting the natural order, did you not?" She stood up and took a step towards him. "You wanted to get rid of her and you had good reasons to do so. If your vessel hadn't been so strong, it would have torn you apart at birth."

Naomi turned away from him.

"We are responsible for ensuring that God's creation does not perish. We protect people's souls. Like yours. It is our burden to watch over someone like her."

"I know you and your truths." He tried to give his voice a firm tone. "All you care about is her powers." Now it was Sam who stepped closer. "She can kill each and everyone of you with a snap of her finger. That's why you care, isn't it?"

"There are hardly enough angels left to keep the sky alight. We need every help we can get." She narrowed her lips. "That is the only reason why the nephilim is still alive. She will either serve heaven and find her place among her brothers and sisters or she will perish. And now –" She turned to him and at a nod of her head two angels appeared who opened the cell and walked Sam. "Your soul must go back to your heaven and find peace there."

"Where is my daughter?"

He considered fighting, but even he knew how hopeless it was. The angels grabbed his arms and he wondered how he could still feel their strength even though his body had long since died.

Naomi touched his forehead.

"Sleep now," was the last thing he heard. An image appeared. Charlie was sitting around a campfire. It wasn't a memory. She was almost an adult, older than Sam had ever known her. She looked beautiful and tough and Sam felt pride flow through him. How could anyone call her disfigured?

Only Charlie's eyes looked too serious and glum.

"I told you it was stupid to run away." She held a teenage boy by the arm. "Firstly, we'd find you anyway, and secondly... Well, we are the good guys and if you run away and we are not there to look out for you," she shrugged, "well, you'd get killed by the people who already set your house on fire."

"How do I know that wasn't you guys?"

"Because we say so."

She nodded in the direction of the three figures sitting on the other side of the campfire, who watched the conversation with serious faces while they were eating Twinkies.

"So, let me get this straight." The boy stood up. "You are Charlie and these are your angels?"

"We are all angels."

"Angels of the Lord," echoed one of the women with her mouth full. "These – how do you call them? Twinkies? They are so..." She was looking for the right word. "Fluffy?"

"And so... sugary," added her comrade.

"And I am a prophet." The boy pointed his finger at himself. "Look, that can't be right. I didn't even attend Sunday School after the first two weeks because Tyler kept beating me up."

"I know that it sounds pretty crazy but, yes you are. That's why you were having these migraines and seeing things that are not there and well." She shrugged. "That's why all the demons and other monsters are after you."

"It doesn't sound crazy, it sounds absolutely impossible! I'm pretty sure I've just been kidnapped by some kind of religious Mansion Family thing." His laugh rang shrill. "What exactly are you going to do to me? Cut me open and probe me?"

Sam could see that Charlie was about to lose her patience.

"We have already told you that we will protect you."

"Protect me from what? The devil?"

"That too."

The angels had finished their Twinkies and stared first at the wrappers in their hands and then at Charlie, as if they were watching a particularly exciting boxing match on TV.

"Well, that's just great!" The prophet turned to Charlie too. "I mean, I always wanted something special to happen to me. Or just for a pretty girl like you to talk to me. But this here is definitely not what I had in mind!" He shook his head. "I want to go back home now and just be Jason Miller, the invisible guy."

"Have you still not gotten it?" She shook her head. "You will never just be Jason Miller again."

"You were chosen by God," said one of the angels with the crinkly foil in her hands. "This is a great honor."

"I don’t give a fuck about your honor! I don't want any of this!"

He turned away. Charlie just sat there and stared into the fire when the picture started to dissolve and Sam remembered that he existed.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?"

It was difficult not to get lost in his heaven again, especially with Castiel lying next to him. It all felt so real. It would be so easy to sink back into the warmth and give into the forgetting. What did it ultimately matter that this wasn't the real Castiel, when Sam knew his own feelings were true.

"I'm thinking about our daughter."

He crawled closer to Castiel, pulled the blanket over them, and returned the hug.

"Are you still worried because of the way she was talking to you at dinner?" The kiss that was placed on his forehead was warm and placative. "You said yourself that as a young person you didn't always agree with your father either." He smiled. "I am convinced that she still loves you."

"I know."

Sam stroked over Castiel's cheeks with both his thumbs.

"But why are you still so sad then?"

His blue eyes were full of compassion.

"Because I miss you. Because you are not real and because I have to stay awake to help her."

"But I –"

He silenced Castiel with a gentle kiss.

"I’m sorry."

One last look out of far too blue eyes and Sam was alone.

* * *

Sam couldn't tell how much time had passed since he had been brought back into his heaven. It could have been hours or centuries. He had been looking for the exit for so long and still hadn't found anything. He had rejected every beautiful memory, had pushed away the fake versions of Dean, Castiel and Charlie over and over again - but it cost him more and more strength each time. When he opened his eyes and Castiel stood in front of him in his brown trench coat, he didn't even bat an eyelid.

"I wish you were real," he mumbled.

Castiel did not answer. He just pulled Sam towards him without a word. It felt different, more real. He felt Castiel's exhaustion under his fingers, his desperate sobs.

"You are mistaken, Sam. I am real."

Sam let go of him and looked at him in earnest. Although the angel had not changed externally, Sam could clearly see the sadness and tiredness behind his eyes "How –? What happened? Why are you here?"

"I need your help." Castiel placed a hand on Sam's face. I mean, I always need you, every single day, but that's not the point. This is about Charlie."

"What about her? I had this vision of her and..."

"Dean and I have been looking for her since heaven took her. But –" He looked even more tired now. "It was like she didn't want to be found and she learned her hiding skills from the best hunter in the world." He smiled briefly and then got serious again. "She was following her own plan all along. Now she has rebelled against heaven and they are all looking for her."

"Is that a family tradition?" Sam had bowed his head. "First a heavenly warrior and then a renegade rebel? Why is she doing this?"

"Well, she had many reasons, the angels weren't good to her, but that's not it. I think she has been pursuing the plan to bring you back to life all of this time."

"Why would she do that?"

"She is a Winchester."

He said it with awe. Almost as if being a Winchester was something to aspire to.

"Where is she now?"

Castiel didn't answer. Instead he had started walking up and down. Sam's heart contracted painfully.

"Where is she?" he repeated.

"You are probably the only person who can still change her mind now," Castiel said. "I'm so very weak right now." He looked directly at Sam. "But if we hurry up and don't stay in the past too long, my powers should be enough."

"Cas, goddamn, what are you –"

Castiel reached out and touched his forehead. Bright white burned through his head. He could hear music that seemed strangely familiar to him and the mixture of many people's voices. When he opened his eyes, he looked at the wooden floor of a bar. He felt dizzy.

"It's really embarrassing how drunk some people get at gigs.." He heard the woman's voice and her heels move away.

"Are you all right?" Castiel helped him to his feet.

Sam nodded.

"Where are we?" The moment he'd asked, he knew. There was the poster that announced The Golden Apples. He could see the hall filled with chairs through the door, the bar in the corner. "Why did you bring me here? What the hell are we doing here? What's this got to do with Charlie?"

Castiel did not answer. He indicated towards a table on the opposite wall where a young couple was sitting. She brushed back her long dark hair, and he smiled up at her with a strange look in his eyes.

"This is so crazy! I mean, did we really go back in time?" He reached for the glass in front of him. "This is like that 80s movie my parents made me watch. I probably have to look out so my Mom doesn't fall in love with me and I don't mess up the future!"

She laughed.

"Look at it this way: You're not a prophet here because this time already got its own prophet. Nobody is looking for you and is trying to get you to work for them." There was something melancholic in her eyes. "Here you can just be yourself and be happy. "

"I could win the lottery and get rich."

"Do you remember any winning numbers from the past eighteen years?"

Now he was laughing.

"No, okay. But I could tell people about events in the future and when they come to be true, everyone will think that I'm –"

"A prophet?" She cocked her head.

"You're right. That would actually suck. Well, this is probably going to be the last day of my life anyway because my Mom is going to crush on me hard, so –" He raised his glass. "You know what? Fuck it."

They both raised their glasses and drank.

"It's probably the last day of my life too."

He laughed as if she had made a particularly good joke.

"It's Charlie and the prophet." Sam unfroze. "What are they doing here?"

"I'll get us more drinks." While Sam and Castiel fought their way through the crowd of people who poured into the hall, Charlie got up. "I'll be right back."

Sam wanted to follow her but Castiel held him by the arm.

"Wait." He gestured towards the bar where Charlie now stood in the queue. "The most important thing to remember when time traveling is that you should never meet yourself. Usually this is not a problem for an angel because we don’t participate in people’s lives but this time..."

Sam would not have recognized his former self if this version of him hadn't had a Castiel beside him too. How young he seemed. It was like looking at a photo that you hated the moment it was taken, and when you found it in a drawer many years later you looked at it with a detached sense of fondness. The young Sam standing in line behind Charlie was surrounded by a cloud of melancholy and sadness that was so dense that Sam only had to close his eyes to feel it again.

"Why did Charlie come here?"

"You still don't know?"

Castiel's body hadn't changed but his eyes had. They were so different from the eyes of the Castiel standing next to Sam in the row, even different from the eyes of the Castiel with whom he had lived in Seattle, whom he had married.

It was Charlie's turn now. She moved around to Sam, after she had thrown him a lot of furtive glances.

"I... My boyfriend has my wallet." She pointed outside. "If you want you can go ahead." Then she walked away and everything suddenly made sense to Sam.

"Why would she do this?" He grabbed Castiel's arm. "We can't let her do this!"

"We won't. Come on. She's heading towards the stairs. We have about three minutes until we, our former selves, will arrive there to get up to the roof terrace."

He remembered the roof terrace. He remembered the tequila and some of what happened before he had blacked out. He pushed the thought aside and followed Castiel as quickly as he could.

"Charlie!"

Her hand almost reached the fire alarm. She winced and looked up at him sheepishly.

Sam pulled her into a tight hug. She still smelled the way he remembered. Clean. Of sweat, washing powder and shampoo. Even the time with the angels could not change her smell. How stupid he had been to believe that eventually would have to decide what she wanted to be - a human being or an angel. She would always be both. She would always be their daughter.

"What were you thinking?" he asked and loosened the hold on her to look at her face. "If you trigger the alarm then we will... then the whole evening will..."

She was crying now.

"I just want to make it right again."

"Oh, Charlie. No. There is nothing you just have to make right." Sam stroked over her hair like he had done when she was a child.

"I killed you."

"No, you –"

"I know I did!" She looked up. "I read every book I could find, I talked to everyone in heaven - so stop pretending it's not true! If I hadn't been born you would still be alive."

"I know that you blame yourself for my death and think that we would all have been better off without you but..." He shook his head. He held her so tightly that she was forced to look at him. "Yes, it's true. I didn't plan to have you and I was really not in a good place when I heard that you were, well, on the way." The sound that escaped his lungs had a strange husky quality to it. "But you saw me back there." He indicated behind him. "I wasn't happy then either. My life was going nowhere before I had you." He broke off and waited until she looked up at him again.

"I love you more than anything. Cas and Dean do too. Please don't blame yourself for things that you had no control over." He stroked over her wet cheeks. "I was happy because I had you and the last years of my life with you and Cas..." He took a breath. "It was right the way things went. Despite all the mistakes. Despite everything, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way." He held her close once more. "You are so young and you still have so much life to live." He buried his face in her hair. "Come on. Let's get you home."

"Home." She was crying so badly now that he could hardly understand her. "I don't have a home anymore. You are dead and..." She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. "I'm not human and I am not an angel either. I’m a freak." She shook her head weakly. "I'm no different from the monsters you used to hunt."


	18. Year 18

Jason shifted uneasily on his side of the couch.

"Stop fidgeting. You’re driving me nuts." Dean spoke more gruffly than he had meant to; Jason froze immediately. Dean tended to have that effect on him.

"Sorry," Jason replied meekly. Not for the first time Dean wondered how his niece could have fallen for such a wuss. Sure, he was a prophet and Dean figured bitching about the angels and heaven gave them something to talk about, but apart from that? He didn’t get it. Jason wasn’t even particularly good-looking. Just kinda plain. Like a farmer’s boy.

"Don't even listen to him." Charlie rolled her eyes. "Dean just still can't handle the fact that someone who isn't part of the family is living in the bunker."

"That's bullshit." Dean wouldn’t have minded friends living with them, people who livened up the place. But not her freaking teenage boyfriend.

"You know it's not. But you’ll just have to learn and live with that. Because he’s not going anywhere."

Dean and Charlie glared at each other for a second, then they moved on; they were both used to this.

Within the last few months a semblance of normalcy had taken over their lives. Since Charlie had moved in with them again, sometimes it felt as if they had all never left the bunker in the first place. Of course some things had changed. Charlie had grown older and, as uncomfortable as admitting it was, had turned into an attractive young woman. If Dean thought about it too long he grew sad, knowing how much of her childhood he had been forced to miss. The biggest give away that Charlie wasn’t a child anymore though was Jason, who never really left her side.

Honestly, Jason was alright. It wasn’t him that Dean didn’t like, it was the role he played in Charlie’s life. It was the principle of things. But Dean also realized that, as a wayward prophet, Jason wasn’t exactly safe from heaven and hell; it made sense for him to stay in the bunker. Plus, it was useful to have him around. That didn’t mean that Dean had to be a fan of a teenage romance taking place under their roof. Dean had insisted that Jason took the room furthest away from Charlie’s as possible. But he wasn’t stupid; he knew that there was nothing keeping two hormonal teenagers in love from getting their way, definitely not separate rooms. A nephilim dating a prophet still sounded like the beginning of a bad joke to Dean, but he figured it fit with the whacko trajectories of all their lives.

Castiel entered the library and sat down on the couch next to Dean, without really glancing at him, instead he looked intently at his daughter across from him.

"All we can do now is wait," he told her almost solemnly.

"I still wish we could have just taken Dad with us right away."

"I would have liked nothing more than to take him with us too. But you know it was impossible."

"I know, I know." She pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "It wouldn’t have worked."

"I still don’t quite understand," Jason said. "So…" He looked between Charlie and Cas. "So you think your Dad would have just died again if we had taken him with us, right? Because of, um, some rules? But why? I mean I still have trouble wrapping my head around the whole idea of a man having a child in the first place and I still don’t quite understand how that is supposed to work from an anatomically point of view —" Charlie threw him an angry look and he sat up straighter. "But that’s on me of course!" He cleared his throat. "So, um, what I meant to say: Sam died because of Charlie’s grace, right? And he would have died again if you had brought him back. But - and maybe that’s a stupid question - but: what’s different now? Why shouldn’t he die again this time?"

"Because he won’t be in the same body that bore Charlie," Castiel replied matter-of-factly.

"So he’s just gonna be a totally different person?"

"No. His soul will be the same and his body will be identical to the vessel in which he died. But they will differ on a molecular level."

Jason looked unconvinced.

"And it wouldn’t have been like this if we’d just taken him with us from the past because...?"

"Jesus!" Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas, you don’t have to explain the same shit to him all over again. He’s just not going to get it."

"I understand that it can be a very confusing topic for humans." Sometimes Castiel could be almost too patient with the prophet. He turned to Jason and explained: "There are different ways to get in and out of heaven, and the resurrection of a body differs according to that."

Jason frowned. "And because this metaphorical taxi driver, uh, this smuggler takes him out of heaven, he gets a new body? Why?"

"It doesn’t matter why it works as long as it works," Dean replied gruffly. "When are we supposed to meet them?" he asked Castiel, who folded his hands in his lap.

"He is supposed to arrive in three hours."

"Where?"

Castiel wrung his hands. Dean could tell that he grew uncomfortable. "Near Washington."

"You can’t get to Washington in three hours."

"Not by car, no. I think it would be best if I picked Sam up alone.”

"I can’t come with you?" Charlie asked angrily, saying exactly what Dean had been thinking.

Castiel looked at her with sympathy. "I understand your need to see him as soon as possible. But it’s much less dangerous if I go alone."

"Sure," she huffed. "Because, unlike me, heaven isn’t trying to lock your ass up at all."

"Um," Jason said. "What are we going to do when the angels notice that he’s missing? Aren’t they going to send someone?"

"You tell us," Dean said. "You’re the prophet."

"Let them come," Charlie said. "It’s not like I couldn’t fight them off."

"No one is saying that there is going to be a fight." Castiel shook his head. "Dean and Sam have often acted explicitly against the will of heaven before without an actual war breaking out."

That was more down to luck than anything else, but Dean certainly wouldn’t bother mentioning that.

"And even if they’ll try," Dean said. "Once we get Sam back, they won’t stand a chance against us."

Castiel turned to him and threw him a grateful smile.

* * *

The hour they spent waiting for Castiel to return with Sam in tow seemed endless.

They had anticipated this moment for so long, but the wait today felt different and more acute. What if something had gone wrong after all?

Dean’s eyes flicked to Charlie. She had a book opened in her lap, but was clearly unable to focus on reading. She hadn’t turned more than one page in half an hour and she kept getting up to fetch something to drink from the kitchen or to walk to the bathroom.

After Charlie had traveled in time to undo her own birth, and Sam had managed to change her mind, the two of them had parted on good terms. But Dean knew that she still felt a lot of guilt for Sam’s death and how she had treated him beforehand; she was nervous how things would be between them.

Dean could sympathize. Seeing Sam in his heaven had been painful for a number of reasons. And unlike Charlie, Dean had an actual good reason to feel guilty and scared. He was anxious to get Sam back and he would never have wanted Sam to remain in heaven, but he would have been lying if he claimed that he had only positive thoughts about meeting his brother again. There were a bunch of other feelings fighting for dominance.

He pressed his eyes shut. He shouldn’t even be thinking like this.

A wingbeat. And suddenly they both stood in the library.

Sam looked good. Sanguine. Not a day older than when he had died - only a lot healthier and with more color in his face. Castiel stood next to him, holding his hand.

"Dad!" Charlie jumped up from the couch and ran towards him, her book tumbling onto the floor forgotten. She stopped a step ahead of him, unsure all of a sudden.

"Charlie…" Sam said wistfully and pulled his daughter close. Although she had grown tall, he was still towering over her. They wrapped their arms around each other and did not let go of each other for a good while. "It actually worked," she murmured, incredulous.

Sam released her slowly and looked briefly at Castiel. "Cas has already told me about all the changes I’ve missed." He sounded insecure. Dean wasn’t sure why that surprised him. In his mind he’d turned his brother into this looming shadow over their lives - but now he was reminded of who Sam actually was: a multilayered conundrum, wavering between absolute certainty in his views and actions and incredible insecurity about his very existence.

"You are still overwhelmed," Castiel said with gentleness. "It will take awhile for you to get used to your new old body and life."

"I don’t know," said Sam. "Maybe. I think I’m okay. I just —"

Dean had also gotten up and approached his brother. When Charlie let go of him, Dean hugged Sam. He held him with a firm grip and clapped his back before he drew away a little. Dean’s body knew nothing of his mixed emotions. It didn’t want to let go; on a primal level it felt right to be reunited with his brother.

"Sam." Dean heard how scratchy his own voice was. "How are you feeling?"

"I’m a little tired," Sam admitted. "But happy and grateful to be back." He broke away from Dean completely and looked around the room. He spotted Jason who raised his hand slowly. "Hello, Mr. Winchester."

"Mr. Winchester?" A rarity of a grin spread across Sam’s lips. "Hello, Jason."

"He lives here now," Dean said.

"Yeah, Cas already filled me in." Sam reached for Castiel’s hand and squeezed it. "You’ve all been living here together."

"Yeah, but —" Dean startled. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. That Sam didn’t have to stay if he didn’t want to? That he and Cas could leave if they wanted? Dean wasn’t sure if that was even technically true. Jason was right: There were a lot of people who would object to Sam’s resurrection, and there was no safer place for him than the bunker. And in case they were going to be attacked, it would be wise to stick together for a while.

"Dad," Charlie said with reverence. She kept touching his arm. "I still can’t believe you’re really back."

"Me either. I really didn’t think I’d get to see you again…" He put a hand at the back of her neck. It was strange for Dean to see them so intimate with each other, although he was happy for them of course. "I always imagined you’d be in college by now," Sam said. "Well, college or heaven."

"College could wait. You couldn’t. And heaven - well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

Sam pulled up the corners of his mouth. "No kidding."

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked.

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I think, actually, I could eat."

"What do you want? I went a little nuts the last time I went grocery shopping and got pretty much everything. Cas and I spent a lot of time wondering what you’d want to eat once you got back." He shared a quick look with Castiel. As if he feared alluding to having a conversation was somehow off-limits.

"I’m fine with anything," Sam said.

"Come on, Sammy. Your first post-mortem meal. You gotta have something in mind."

"Honestly? I’d like a salad." Sam looked at him with apprehension in his eyes and Dean laughed.

"Of course you do." He shook his head, play-acting at being annoyed. "You might have a new body, but you’re obviously the same old same old. Hey, by the way, are you actually younger than your own daughter now?"

Castiel shook his head and replied for Sam: "Although he’s only had this body for a few hours, the cell degeneration is as advanced as it was at the time shortly before his death."

"You do look quite 'rejuvenated'."

Charlie agreed. "Yeah, you look like you had a super long relaxing vacation."

Castiel looked at Sam thoughtfully for a while.

"What is it?" Sam asked. He seemed to grow a little restless under Castiel’s eyes and wiped a strand of hair behind his ear.

Castiel cleared his throat. "I just thought that you looked as handsome as you did in my memories."

The look they gave each other was brief, but its gentleness hit Dean like a punch in the stomach.

"I’m gonna go ahead and prepare your salad," Dean said, and turned to the kitchen.

He should be happy to get a second (third, fourth, whatever number they were at) chance with his brother. Castiel and Dean had spent the last years focused on getting Charlie and Sam back. And of course, Dean was glad they had succeeded. He was thrilled.

There was just a tiny shameful part of him that wouldn’t have minded if Sam had stayed away for another one or two days. He’d been in heaven, he’d been safe and cozy up there.

It felt like someone was taking something away from him, pulling the carpet from under his feet. Dean knew that what was being taken from him was something he wasn’t entitled to in the first place. But being alone with Castiel had been... As much as he’d missed Sam, living with Castiel had felt right in its own way. And then, of course, there was the other thing. They had not talked about it properly for a long time, had just slipped into it like an old sweater and found it still fit. Why ruin what little happiness there was with discussions, Dean had figured. Only when Sam’s revival had come closer and closer, had they dared discussing what they were going to do.

Dean hadn’t known what to say that wasn’t obvious at that point. That what they did was if not unethical than at least shady, no matter what Sam had told them to. That it was obvious how painfully they missed Sam. That they loved each other, but that this fact alone, ultimately, didn’t seem to matter all that much. They had talked in circles for a while, until Dean had grown weary of talking.

Dean opened the fridge and took out a bag of spinach.

"Hey." Sam stood in the doorway and flashed a shy smile at him. "Can you use a hand?"

"Sure." Dean nodded towards the spinach. "You know more about that crap than me anyway."

"You know you guys don’t have to eat salad just because of me. I was serious: I’m fine with whatever."

"Alright. You make a side salad then." Dean went to the freezer and took out three pizzas. "Balance, right?"

"So, um, how have you been?" Sam asked as he looked around the kitchen.

"The metal bowl? It’s in the other cupboard now. Charlie rearranged everything some time ago."

"Oh, yeah, thanks."

A moment later Sam stood at the table, a shiny stainless steel bowl in front of him, and looked around himself once more.

"The rest of the green stuff is still in the fridge, should I-?" Dean motioned.

Sam shook his head. He wanted to do it himself. He wanted to grow familiar with this place again.

Dean shrugged and went to put the pizzas into the oven. Once he was done, he turned around to face Sam.

He watched his brother chop a carrot with a concentrated look on his face. The knife he used looked comically small in his large hand.

"So," Sam said, without looking up. "Getting back to my original question: how are you?"

"I’m awesome." Dean turned back to the fridge and got out two beers. He opened both bottles and put one down onto the table.

"I don’t expect a blow by blow account of all the days I’ve missed, but come on, Dean. I just want to hear how you’ve been doing. I’ve missed you."

Dean stared at Sam’s hand fiddling with the small knife. He considered mentioning that they had other bigger ones, too.

"I’m really glad you’re back, Sam."

"But…”

"But nothing."

"But it’s weird," Sam finished for him. "It is, isn’t it? It’s weird that my death and everything that’s happened is supposed to just make everything okay between us. You hated my guts and now we’re supposed to live together again."

"I could leave," Dean suggested. "I’d be okay with leaving."

Sam furrowed his brow. "No, of course you shouldn’t leave. You know that’s not what I meant at all. I’m glad we’re both here. I just meant: I get that you’d feel ambivalent about me coming back. And um…" Sam exhaled sharply and looked up. "Is it still strange for you to be around me and Cas? If you find it difficult, then we could also —"

He let the sentence run into the sand. Then they could do what? Keep the PDA to a minimum? Be really quiet?

Dean shook his head.

"Water under the bridge," he said. "That was all years ago."

Sam frowned, he could tell Dean was bullshitting him. "I know you and Cas only had each other for a while. I understand if —"

"I was serious, Sam," Dean didn’t let him finish. "I only care that you are back and that Charlie is fine. This is a win for us. I’m not saying it’s not gonna be awkward for a while, but we can do this, right? And I’m glad Cas..." He hesitated. "I am glad that Cas and I are on good terms again. And look, I’m not saying I’m over what happened or that I’ll ever really be. But I’m trying to see it like this: Being alone sucked. And the fact that I get to have the most important people in my life again is pretty much a miracle anyway." He had forgotten the beer in his hand and took a gulp; it was icy cold.

The sound of chopping filled the silence, until Dean spoke again. "Don’t tell Charlie, but I’m honestly dreading the day she’s going to run off to college."

"Did she talk to you about that?" Sam looked up from cutting a cucumber. "Does she already have an idea where she wants to go?" Sam seemed excited by the prospect rather than dismayed to lose his daughter again.

"I don’t know. She mentioned a few places. I overheard her talking with Jason, too, but we were mostly focused on getting you back, so I doubt she already has any concrete plans."

"For purely selfish reasons I’m glad that she’s still here," Sam said. "It’s so bizarre to see her all grown up. She’s almost an adult now. When the hell did that happen?"

"Tell me about it," Dean said.

"At least I got an excuse for missing it, I guess."

Dean watched him cut a red bell pepper now. He played with the tag on his beer bottle. "Apart from all that… You’re feeling okay? You good?"

"Yeah. I’m good. I just feel like I woke up from a long, confused and rambly dream."

Sam looked at him for a while, then put the knife aside, and stepped around the table. He pulled Dean into a second hug. "I am so sorry," he said into Dean’s shoulder. "I never meant for it to go down like it did."

"You didn’t exactly choose to die." Dean patted Sam’s back, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"No, not that. But the rest of it, everything that happened before. You know I never wanted to make your life worse. I always just wanted to —"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said good-naturedly. "Water under the bridge."

Sam nodded and pulled away, as if he was embarrassed by the sudden outburst. He went back to preparing the salad.

Dinner wasn’t any less strained. Dean’s happiness about Sam’s return was overshadowed every time he took a look at Sam and Cas sitting side by side. He couldn’t even say whether it was more jealousy or a guilty conscience.

"Wow, really? That’s amazing!" Jason exclaimed over and over again, whenever Sam answered one of his endless questions about the afterlife.

"I don’t know about amazing." Sam shrugged. "But I guess on a theoretical level it is quite fascinating."

Castiel kept squeezing Sam’s hand that lay on the table, as if to confirm that Sam was really there.

Dean suppressed the urge to just get up and leave for his room. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to keep up the happy facade. But he needn’t have worried because soon Sam announced that he was wiped and that he didn’t mean to be impolite, he just really needed some sleep.

"No worries. Getting re-born can really drain your batteries." Dean felt stupid the moment the words had left his mouth. He wondered if the others noticed his clumsiness too. How careful he was to sidestep anything that could lead to a fight.

"Enjoy your new body and your old room," he told his brother, and even then no one batted an eyelid, even though Dean knew he sounded awkward as hell. But they were probably just too busy with themselves to notice.

Charlie gave Sam another one of these hugs that seemed to go on forever, and Sam looked as if he wouldn’t have minded if it did.

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Charlie."

It was strange to see the two act so harmoniously. And all it had taken was one simple death. Classic Winchester move.

"I’ll be with you in a moment," Castiel told Sam. "I’m just going to clear the table first."

"Oh, sorry." A guilty expression took over Sam’s face. "Do you want me to help?"

"No, of course not. It’s just gonna take a minute."

"Goodnight, Mr. Winch-- uh, Sam," Jason said.

And with that they watched Sam disappear into the hall.

Jason and Charlie went into Charlie’s room to watch a movie, and Dean was too exhausted and confused by everything to even comment on that, which was a first.

Dean helped Castiel clear the table.

When they were done, they stood at the counter in the kitchen for a moment, looking around indecisively.

"I’m going to check on Sam," Castiel eventually said. Which Dean took as his cue. He grabbed Castiel’s sleeve.

"Hang on, Cas, we should —"

The harsh look out of the blue eyes cut right through Dean.

"Talk?" Castiel asked. "Is that what you want to do now that Sam is back?"

The icy tone surprised Dean. "Yes. We should talk."

"And what is it you want to talk about?" Castiel cocked his head to the side.

"Are you going to tell him?" Dean asked.

At least Castiel didn’t ask what Dean meant. He pressed his lips together.

"I’m not going to lie to Sam," Castiel said, his voice calmer now. "But I’m not sure about the right timing. Although he gave his implicit blessing, I still think it might hurt him."

"You think?" Dean huffed and ran his palm over his face. "There’s never going to be the right time. You might as well rip off the bandaid."

"We only got him back today and he is in a very vulnerable state. I am definitely not going to do anything that might endanger him now."

Dean shook his head.

"You’re not going to lose him. He’s probably not even going to be really surprised. I just think he’ll — He’s probably not going to want me around."

Castiel mulled this over for a moment. "But it is currently far too dangerous for Sam to live outside the bunker."

"Maybe I should just leave right now," Dean offered. "That would be easiest."

"No. Of course not. What would that help? You are safest here, too."

Dean was glad to hear Castiel say it.

"Look, I don’t feel good lying to him either. I really don’t. But his safety is more important than our need to come clean."

Castiel considered this for a while, then he nodded. "I think you are right. But once he’s settled in, I will talk to him." He looked towards the open kitchen door. "I should —"

He didn’t get any further, before Dean had pulled him closer and kissed him.

Castiel reacted for the tiniest moment, before he drew away and shook his head. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to Dean, but it hurt anyway.

"We can’t." Castiel looked anywhere but at him. "Sam was dead. We were afraid that he wouldn’t ever return and he told us to live our lives the best we could without him. But —"

"But now that he’s back, all the things you told me aren’t true anymore?"

Castiel glared at him.

"This is not about my feelings for you; they are not up for debate. They have not changed."

Dean took a step back and leant against the kitchen counter.

"Right."

Castiel stretched out his hand and made a move towards him. Then he froze, thinking better of it, and lowered his arm. He stood stiff as a board. "Dean. All I’m asking you is not to make the situation more complicated for all of us than it already is."

"Easy for you to say. You got what you wanted. You got him back."

"So do you." Castiel replied. His words hit Dean like a brick. "And none of this is easy for me either."

Dean wanted to laugh, but when he turned to look up, Castiel’s face was somber. He was telling the truth, at least his version of it.

And what exactly was it that Dean wanted him to do anyway? Maybe all he needed was a promise that they weren’t going to leave him this time. That he wasn’t going to be left alone and just dropped as a family member all over again. Dean knew they would be fine on their own - Cas and Sam, but Charlie too. He felt pathetic but at least he was self-aware enough to recognize the truth now: they all didn’t need him the same way he needed them.

Dean didn’t say anything.

Castiel put a hand to his shoulder, but he too kept quiet, and eventually he left the kitchen for Sam’s room.

Dean waited a beat, before he went hunting down the right bottle to keep him company through the night. He thought of the second pillow on his bed and wondered if he should throw it out, but he knew he would keep it where it was.


	19. Year 19

He spotted her from far away. She stood under the arcade between all the other students and waved at them. He knew it was her and yet, looking at her, he felt confused.

Angels could recognize other angels in any vessel they appeared in. They saw the grace shining through their body, the same way they could tell a demon’s true face anywhere. Even when Charlie had just been born and her grace had been sealed off by magic, he had seen it shine through all the layers of humanity, tears, and infant needs. These times were long gone. Now his daughter was capable of using all of her powers but chose not to. She stood in a navy blue dress a the hallway of a university in California, the prototype of a human being, waved and shone silently. He wondered how it was possible that all these stupid naive people around them didn’t notice; that they didn’t feel the light; that they assumed Charlie was one of them.

"Dad! Dean! Over here!"

Sam and Dean also recognized her, if for different reasons. They couldn’t see her wings, and yet there was a force pulling them towards her. Family ties, love or whatever you wanted to call it. Recognition lay on their faces and they headed straight for her.

"Jesus, sweetie. Look at yourself. You’ve grown into a giant!"

She was taller than Dean by a few inches now, which was definitely thanks to Sam’s genetic makeup. Dean pulled her into a tight hug and buried his face in her long hair. She put her arms around him and held him close.

"I don’t think the human body still grows that much once you’ve hit 20." 

"You sound just like your father."

"Which one?"

She laughed, and then he let her go.

"Either one."

Sam laughed too and took advantage of the moment to embrace her as well.

"It’s so good to see you again."

"Dad, you’re suffocating me." She laughed. "Besides, you talk as if I’d just come back from a Mars expedition." She broke away from him. "We’ve talked almost every day."

Sam and Dean gave each other a quick look. The moment was over so quickly that it was unlike anyone had noticed it, anyone except for Castiel. He had learned to read the Winchester brothers’ non-verbal messages over the past few years. He understood the look that said talking on the phone was not good enough as clearly as if he had heard it in a prayer.

"Where’s your useless boyfriend of a prophet?"

Dean looked around.

"He wanted to get home after class to get dinner ready for us - and you shouldn’t always call him that."

She boxed him playfully in the side; Dean swerved successfully. 

"What don’t you want me to call him? Prophet or your boyfriend?"

"Oh, someone is out looking for danger. Pretty brave words for such an old man." This time she caught him by the shirt. He laughed, but Cas could tell that Dean was irritated that his reflexes had let him down. Dean was still attractive. The aging process had been gentle with him - a miracle considering his lifestyle - but the fact that he was older had become visible. There were silver streaks in his dark blond hair and the lines around his eyes had deepened. Sam’s body had also aged, although much less thanks to the magic involved in his resurrection. Castiel hated to dwell on this topic, so he quickly pushed the thought aside.

"Your boyfriend doesn’t even know Led Zeppelin. He thought 'Houses of the Holy' was a place." 

"Oh no, how horrible. I guess he should count himself lucky that this year the School of Engineering is skipping the Great Classic Rock Semester exam and is asking about IT instead."

Dean laughed again.

Castiel looked up in surprise when Sam suddenly stood next to him and squeezed his hand. 

"I just thought I’d join you for a bit." He smiled. "As long as Dean is doing his thing, I won’t have a chance to talk to Charlie anyway."

"He’s missed her very much."

"I know." Holding Sam’s hand had always felt good. "I mean, we all miss her but for Dean…" He shrugged. "The two were always especially tight." 

"And now she has a boyfriend and attends College in Stanford." 

Castiel and Sam looked at Dean at the same time. Charlie was just about to show him the middle finger, then a moment later the both of them laughed so loudly that their bodies twisted before they suddenly started shaking.

"Are you coming?" Charlie asked them. 

"Where to?" Sam asked. 

"I’m showing Dean the campus." She linked arms with Dean, both of them sporting broad grins on their faces. "And you can see what has changed since your time." 

* * *

He should have told her that it was too much for him. At the latest after Charlie had dragged them into the library, the historic church and the cafeteria of her faculty. He should have told her that he wanted to go to her apartment now. But she had sounded so euphoric and Sam and Dean had also seemed content. Why should he have bothered them? He couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what was exhausting him. He wasn’t human; he didn’t feel tired from their three-day journey; he didn’t need a meal to drive his blood sugar level up again. Maybe it was the presence of the thousands of people that made his vessel sweat with anxiety.

He liked people. He had always found them interesting, even before he had gotten to know Sam and Dean. But when viewed up close, he felt like a zoo animal among them, with masses of visitors knocking against the glass. How did Charlie endure this? She seemed to know everything and everyone on campus. Strangers fell around her neck to greet her. 

"You have a very talented daughter. You must be incredibly proud of her."

He could only nod weakly when the plump older man held out his hand and after a while let it drop again, disappointed.

"That was Mr. Anderson," Sam whispered next to him. "That’s insane. I took his economic policy class. I figured he’d be over a hundred years old by now."

Cas tried to pull the corners of his mouth up. But gravity pulled them down again. How did Charlie manage to hide from people’s loud thoughts?

"Is everything ok with you?" Sam asked, studying him. 

Castiel nodded and smiled faintly, but Sam’s eyes remained concerned.

"Should I go get you a coffee?"

He shook his head and at the same time reached for Sam’s hand as if for a lifeline.

"I’d like to go out for a bit." He searched for the right words. "To get some fresh air."

Sam turned to Charlie and Dean, who were standing in a coffee shop that definitely hadn’t existed in his college time, but which, according to Charlie, sold the best pie ever. 

"We’re already heading to the park."

Dean nodded. "Should we get you something?"

Sam considered. "I’d take a cup of coffee. And another one for Cas."

Then they left the building and strolled a few meters to a park-like green area with a bench where they sat down. 

"It will just take a moment." Castiel took a deep breath. "There are just a lot of people in close proximity with very loud worries and needs."

He rubbed over his temples.

"You’re hearing all of them?"

Castiel nodded.

"A lot of exams. There are a lot of students under great stress."

Sam bent over and kissed his forehead. "Is it really that bad? But there are many more souls in heaven than they are down here."

"But there they are…" Castiel wondered how best to explain. "They are more orderly in heaven."

Then they both fell silent.

"It’s strange that I’m back again, isn’t it?" Sam finally broke the silence.

"It must feel strange for you to return to Stanford."

"I didn’t mean Stanford. I meant earth." He laughed. He took his time as if he wanted to make sure to have enough words to fill the silence. "I mean, I like to be back and I’m thankful for every day I get but sometimes…" He took a deep breath. "I don’t know. I guess sometimes it just feels like I shouldn’t be here."

"You deserve to live, Sam. There’s no need to worry about this."

He took Sam’s big hand in his. 

Sam smiled and then looked at the immaculately cut lawn at their feet.

"I still remember exactly how overwhelmed I felt when I got to the campus for the first time." He smiled. "Actually, it felt pretty close to how I felt after the resurrection. This time around anyway. I felt happy and so misplaced at once. As if I didn’t deserve to be there and everything was just a big misunderstanding."

"There were no mistakes. Neither with your admission to the university nor now."

The bench felt hard under his buttocks. He slid back and forth to find the most comfortable sitting position possible.

"Humans are weird, Cas." Sam squeezed his hand tighter. "Always worrying about things that aren’t really based on facts, just feelings."

He said nothing and Castiel hoped the topic was over, but then Sam spoke again.

"I was always worried that my father was right after all. That my place was actually with my family and not at college. That something really bad was going to happen because I challenged fate and took something that was not mine. Like in some Greek tragedy."

"That is nothing but superstition."

"Well, I did end up watching my girlfriend burn on ceiling of our shared apartment."

Sam shrugged and Castiel could still see the pain on his face after all these years.

"And that wasn’t your fault."

"It’s a fact that she wouldn’t have died this way if she’d never met me." His lips curled up into a sad grimace. "I sometimes wonder how our lives would have turned out if… I hadn’t been cursed and she wouldn’t have been murdered. If we ever would have had children or split up. Or…"

"Hey, don’t…" Castiel patted his arm. "It only makes you sad to think about things that you can’t change anyway."

Sam slowly looked up at him.

"I’ve seen her burn in my dreams so many times that I think my real memory of her has long been overwritten by that image. I mean, I don’t remember what she looked like when she smiled or when her hair was messy in the morning. I only remember what she looked like when she was screaming." He pulled up his shoulders to his ears. "Sometimes I don’t even know if I really loved her as much as I think I did."

He wanted to answer but just that moment Charlie and Dean came back from the coffeeshop. Charlie was carrying a cardboard box with five colorful paper cups and another one with donuts glazed in all the colors of rainbow. The answer to the question why there were five cups soon became apparent, because Jason trailed them and smiled his shy smile up at Castiel and Sam.

"I usually try to avoid trash and try to bring my own reusable cup," said Charlie, pointing to the cups, "but shit happens." 

Her voice sounded higher than usual and euphoric in a deeply human way that reminded Castiel of radio presenters on stations Dean had always skipped because he found the chatter "fucking unbearable". That had been long ago. When there had been only the two of them. Back when Castiel had considered Sam only as an anomaly and as an appendage to his brother. His eyes jumped from Sam to Dean. He didn’t know who he felt more apologetic towards.

"I’m going to hell anyway." Dean laughed. "I don’t think a few plastic cups are going to make much of a difference." 

He also sounded like a radio host. 

"Dean and Charlie bring out the worst in each other," he could still hear Sam tell him. How many years ago had it been? Ten? Even if Castiel did not generally agree with this statement, he had to think about it now. 

"Hey Jason," he heard Sam say next to him. "Nice to see you again. Where did you come from all of a sudden?"

The hug was short and awkward. Jason looked like a child next to Sam. During his time in the bunker, he had always remained the spare tire. Something that was cared for because it might turn out useful one day but for which you had no use in the present moment.

"Well, I’m coming from our place. Charlie said that you’d all come over an hour ago and so —"

"Oops, sorry," Charlie laughed and kissed him on the lips. "We totally forgot the time when we walked across campus. Did you know that my Dad used to go here too?"

"Really?" He raised his eyes. "I bet it was really different back then, wasn’t it?" 

"Well." Sam shrugged. "It wasn’t that long ago." He paused for a moment. "Oh God, it was. I’m old."

"Oh, no, Dad, you’re not." Charlie patted Sam’s arm. 

"Did they already have computers back in your day?" 

"Jay!"

Everyone laughed. Everyone except for Dean. His exuberant good mood had given way to a deep silence and only now Castiel noticed how exhausted he looked. Maybe he shouldn’t have let him drive all the way alone.

"How did you know where to find us?" he asked Jason

"Mhm?"

"I mean, the campus is pretty big. How come you knew we were in this café?"

"Well, I’m a prophet." He scratched the back of his head. "I just know these kind of things."

"Things like where your girlfriend is at all times? Are you monitoring her?" 

"No…" He had raised his hands in defense. "She loves this café so chances were good that’s where she’d be… Besides, she is my angel. We have this special bond."

"She is not your angel." Dean laughed. It sounded almost aggressive. "And there’s no special bond." He made a dismissive gesture. "That’s all bullshit."

"But we do have a special bond." Now Charlie took a step forward. Her mood had also changed from silly to tense. "Usually an archangel protects the prophet, but since there aren’t any left, it is my job." 

"You’ve been working for heaven again? For how long?" His eyes were narrowed. "When Michael and his consorts still did this job, they didn’t have to sleep with the prophet to protect him."

Charlie’s face slipped for a brief moment. Castiel wondered what the other people around them who witnessed the argument had to think. Then Charlie had caught herself again. He could tell from her eyes that she was now ready to counterattack.

"You know, angels sleeping with the people they’re supposed to protect has a long tradition in heaven and in this family in particular." When she looked at him, Castiel felt that the attack was quite unfair. He wasn’t involved in this fight at all. "Cas’ job was to get your soul out of hell and not your body into his bed. Isn’t that true?" 

"Hey, listen, we shouldn’t —"

Sam’s attempt at mediating was so heartbreakingly helpless that it only added to the dull feeling inside Castiel’s chest.

"But then he changed his mind and realized you’re brother is much nicer and isn’t such an ass to everyone all the time."

Dean didn’t answer. He just left.

"That didn’t go… well." Jason sounded exhausted. "I think he hates me."

"What was this all about?" Castiel asked. Charlie took a step forward and he held her by the arm. "You acted like angry children."

"You should ask Dean!" She turned away. "Does he really think I’d have anything to do with the shitty heaven? I’m done with the fucking angel thing! I’m through with that. I’ve built myself a life here." 

"Charlie…"

"Don’t Charlie me! I was looking forward to seeing him so much and then he goes and treats me like this." 

Now the anger had turned to grief. 

"He was looking forward to seeing you too. You know him. You know he didn’t mean what he said." Castiel reached out for her. "I think as upset as the two of you still are, it would be best if I talked to him. What do you think?" 

She nodded, and in that very moment she reminded him of the child she had once been.

* * *

Castiel found Dean without any problems. He stood in front of an artificial pond and was skipping stones. 

"I fucked up. She’s super pissed, isn’t she?" Dean said without turning around. Castiel shrugged.

"She will forgive you."

"It was so dumb. I don’t even know why I said it. The words just kind of slipped out."

Castiel put a hand on his trembling shoulder. Dean allowed the touch.

"It’s got to be this place. I mean, it’s insane that she’s here out of all the places to be." Another stone flew and made waves on the water. "It feels like everything’s just going circles. Like I’m losing everyone I care about to this shitty university. I mean, how many universities are there? And it had to be this one?!" 

"Dean." Castiel’s hand was also drawing circles on Dean’s back. It was a strange sensation. Familiar and at the same time wrong, like balancing on a narrow high wall. He was trying his best not to fall. "I know you’re worried about her, but there hasn’t been an attack on us since Sam’s return." 

"That doesn’t mean shit." Dean turned to Castiel, his eyes were strangely intense. "You know how heaven works. You always got to assume the worst. You can’t trust the peace." 

"She is strong." Why did he have to put his hand on Dean’s face, was it really just to bring him comfort? "Much stronger than you or me." Castiel lowered his eyes. "She no longer needs us to protect her. And Sam also says that it is important to let her go. She must be allowed to live her own life."

Dean breathed out a shaky breath. 

"Well, if Sam says so…"

"You were brave when you let Sam go when he went to Stanford, even though everything in you wanted to hold onto him." His fingers were still running over Dean’s face. "And he came back to you and now he’s even come back to you from heaven. You can do it with Charlie too."

Somewhere nearby, two ducks were fighting over a piece of bread. Their quacking tore through the gloaming. 

"I was wrong," Dean said quietly. "I didn’t lose everyone to this space. You just left like that."

\- 

"For you," Dean said, holding a reusable term mug with the logo of the café in front of Charlie. "And for you too."

Jason got the second, who grabbed the peace offering out of reflexive, but looked very confused.

"Thanks, Mr., uh, Dean." 

Charlie said nothing, she just linked arms with Dean. 

"Are you as hungry as I am? If you don’t want to see anything else, we can head home."

How similar they were. At moments like this, she appeared more like Dean’s daughter than Sam’s.

"We’re having a chickpea-gnocchi pan fry. And my boyfriend is a good cook." 

Jason nodded, a look on his face as if he was resigned to his fate. 

"And you can see our apartment." Now she turned to Sam. "It’s actually super close to where you used to live." 

* * *

Castiel had watched people for so many centuries, but he knew too few apartments to make a comparison. The bunker was just the bunker. It was more functional than homely, even though he had gotten so used to it that he considered it a place of security. Then there were the various motel rooms their cases had led them through. One more shabby than the other. His favorite place of residence had been the apartment in Seattle he had shared with Sam. In his mind he walked through its rooms and wondered if other people were living in the exact same place now and whether they were happy. Maybe it was just the period in time that he missed. In retrospect, everything always seemed shinier. That was true for angels as well as humans.

Charlie’s and Jason’s apartment was small but furnished in such a way that it seemed to come straight from one of the young, alternative living magazines that lay on the side table. Everything in the kitchen was made of wood; the floor, the cupboards, even the huge dining table, which took over most of the kitchen.

"We have people over all the time," Jason explained. He stood at the stove and dodged the refrigerator door that Charlie opened to get out the beer. Zeppelin, their dog, looked up at the pan as if he hadn’t been fed for days. "All of our study groups meet here. And then there’s Charlie’s weird campus politics group."

"They’re not weird."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek as she passed him before pushing him aside again to open the drawer with the beer opener.

"Come on, Zeppelin," she shooed the dog over to a blanket designated for pets. 

Even though Castiel himself was holding a beer, he envied his daughter for the full sip she took from the bottle. Could she taste more than just molecules?

"To us and the fact that you are finally here." She raised the bottle in a toast, then turned back to Jason. "And to love." 

"You do know you’re not technically 21 yet…" Sam began. 

She rolled her eyes and bent down to pet the dog.

"Let's put it this way: I learned faking IDs from the best."

* * *

Sam closed the door of the small room, locking out the bits and pieces of Charlie’s and Jason’s conversation that floated over to them from the bedroom. It sounded like a mixture of arguing and crying. Sam stepped out of his pants. In his boxer shorts and T-Shirt he crawled towards Castiel on the narrow couch. His head almost bumped into the desk beside it. 

"Perhaps we shouldn’t have accepted Charlie’s offer to stay with her. Maybe it would have been wiser to look for a hotel room."

Sam shrugged and scooted closer to him. Castiel liked the feeling of body heat against him and stroked through Sam’s hair. Usually Sam slept without a T-shirt on, which Castiel liked better. The direct skin contact felt even nicer. 

"So, what do you think of the big news?" 

Castiel didn’t know what Sam wanted to hear.

"It doesn’t really matter what we think, does it? I don’t assume we have much say in the matter."

Sam laughed.

"Oh, yeah, if Charlie’s got her mind set on something, there’s no stopping her. If you start fighting her, she gets even more strong-headed." He shook the pillow under their heads. "She’s always been like this. From the very first moment she was born and didn’t want to stop screaming."

"She got that from you."

Sam pulled his mouth into a smile and shook his head at the same time.

"I don’t know if you mean that as a compliment or not." 

Castiel didn’t know either, so they were silent. As he looked around the room, he noticed the old-fashioned light bulbs on the windowsill, which Charlie apparently used as a planting ball and from which an assortment of green plants sprouted.

"Do you think Dean is right?"

"That she is too young to marry? That she should find herself some more and experiment with other people before settling down with her first boyfriend?" Castiel shrugged, which felt odd when lying down. "In general, in the United States, the marriageable age is eighteen years, Nebraska and Mississippi being the exception. Since we are in California, it is legal for her to wed." He turned his face toward Sam’s. "Statistically speaking, young marriages don’t last as long, but they are supposed to be happier and more stable, and Charlie is not an ordinary woman, so I think —"

"No, I meant, do you think Dean is right when he said that she’s trying to continue my perfect life for me? My life as it could have been if it hadn’t been for the whole 'doomed to start the apocalypse' thing. He said I was blind if I really couldn’t see that’s what she was doing." 

"Sam, Dean was angry and he’s worried."

"I know that, but that wasn’t my question." Sam straightened the blanket over them. "The question is: do you think he’s right?"

"There are distinct differences." The bed creaked under Castiel’s weight as he shifted. "You studied pre-Law and she is pre-Med for one thing." Castiel shook his head. "I don’t understand why she would do this. She can heal anyone with a single touch." 

"Cas?"

"Hm?"

"Do I make the people around me unhappy?"

Castiel thought about this for a moment. 

"You don’t make me unhappy."

Then he pulled Sam closer to him.

"I’m not sure if you technically count as a person, seeing as you’re not human." 

"Neither is Charlie." 

It felt like a profound, important observation. 

"I understand why - after what happened- she would turn away from heaven," Castiel whispered after a while, hoping to change the subject. "I did the same a long time ago, but the fact that she’s also rejecting everything angelic about herself worries me." That she rejected everything she had inherited from him. "It is also a part of her."

"I’m not sure that’s what she’s doing."

"She tries to act more human than any person I know. She is looking for a prestigious job, is building a network of friends and wants to get married. She even owns a dog."

"Maybe she’s just trying to be happy and find her way in life." Sam propped up his head. "Is that so bad?"

"No, of course not." Castiel paused. "It’s just the way she is chasing after happiness. As if it were one of the monsters she used to hunt with Dean." He sighed. "What if she will one day regret this?" 

Sam did not answer. He sat up and looked out of the window. Because there was so little space, he didn’t even have to get up from the couch to do so. Individual windows glowed brightly in the houses on the other side of the street. 

"What do you think where Dean is right now?"

"I would assume he’s at a bar. That is usually the place he seeks out when he needs to calm down, and considering how he reacted to Charlie’s news…"

Sam put out his hand towards the window; he touched the glass. 

"It’s not good that he’s alone." 

"He will be fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"No, you don't understand: It is not a good thing that he is alone."

Sam’s face had something hard, determined.

"For him, love is something like quicksand. It’s no wonder that he thinks he needs to protect Charlie from it. At the same time he is just being selfish. He’s scared that everyone will leave and he will be left alone."

"Sam." Castiel also sat up and embraced Sam from behind. "He is not alone. He has us." 

It was as if Sam hadn’t even heard him. 

"He was sixteen when he told me that he knew he’d never settle down with anyone and that he was okay with it. Sixteen!" Sam shook his head. "The same age when other people believe in the one great love and he… He’s always been so broken." Sam moved back into the touch. "You were the one exception for him. The only time he really gave it a try. And I’ll never forgive myself, knowing that I sabotaged his one real shot at happiness." 

"It’s not your fault." Castiel stroked over his shoulder carefully. "Besides, Dean himself said that he was over it long ago. We are only good friends. Soul mates." 

Sam made a face.

"A few weeks back he 'confessed' what was going on between you when I was dead."

"I don’t understand. I told you about this shortly after your return."

"Yes, I know, and he seemed genuinely surprised that I already knew - and even more surprised that I was okay with it." Sam cocked his head to one side. "I was dead and I had begged the both of you to take care of each other."

"He must have been very relieved." Castiel put his head on Sam’s shoulder. "He never wanted to deceive you. He was as devastated by your death as I was." 

"He did seem relieved, but at the same time he looked almost disappointed." Sam turned to him and framed Castiel’s face with his hands. "You know what he is like. You know how self-sacrificing he can be." Sam shook his head. "As a child he always said that he just wasn’t really hungry. It took me years to figure out that sometimes there just wasn’t enough for the both of us."

"I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me with this anecdote."

Why did his mouth suddenly feel so dry?

"Cas, I love you very much." He was amazed at the strength with which Sam reached for his hand and interweaved her fingers. "I really don’t want you to leave me." 

"I won’t."

"I know what I said, and it’s still true in a way, but if you still have feelings for Dean, if you… If the both of you want to explore these feelings, then - I would understand. And." He took a deep breath. "I just don’t want to hear about it." 


	20. Year 20

He felt like he was under water, muted somehow. Not just today; he’d been feeling this way for a while now. He had trouble pinpointing when exactly it had started. His perception of time was out of balance. All the days travelling here by car had felt like one long dream sequence, but he knew he’d felt off before their departure too. It wasn’t necessarily a bad or good feeling, but it was unsettling. He couldn’t even say exactly what he felt while he was helping his daughter prepare for her wedding. Whether the joy and hope or the fear for Charlie prevailed. He was looking at everything, including himself, from a bird’s eyes view. 

Last night, before he’d fallen asleep next to Castiel in their hotel room, he’d scooted closer to him and had meant to explain himself. Instead, he’d heard himself say banalities. "I’m sure it will be a nice wedding, but it just feels odd, doesn’t it?" and "Yeah, I’ll miss her too once we’re back home, but as long as she’s happy I’m happy." They sounded right. It made sense that he would say these things. Still, it felt like there was a stranger holding Castiel in his arms. When Castiel had started kissing him, the kiss becoming more intense and urgent by the second, Sam had gently but surely drawn away. Not because he didn’t want to per se. It just didn’t feel right, what with him not feeling like himself.

Under other circumstances, Sam might have worried about his condition. He tried not to. He figured he was allowed to feel off. The wedding of your one and only daughter would be an emotional time for a lot of people, surely. Given their rather special family situation and his history of mental health struggles, it was probably not all that surprising that he felt so strange. He needed to cut himself some slack. 

It wasn’t just the feeling of strangeness that persisted. A wave of nostalgic melancholy had grabbed him and taken over the past few days, with the added bonus of making him feel vaguely guilty, although he couldn’t say towards whom. 

Last night, when he’d been sitting in a run-down pizzeria next to Dean and Cas, he hadn’t taken in much of their conversation. He had made himself nod and make the right comments in the right places and no one had noticed that his mind had been elsewhere. He had taken in Castiel and Dean, had considered the reverent look on Castiel’s face while Dean spoke and gesticulated with his hands and feet. Dean had started laughing, roaring - Sam had hiked up the corners of his mouth without knowing what he was supposed to be amused about - and Dean had leaned into Castiel, shaking with laughter. Castiel had smiled then, radiating absolute comfortableness. 

The thought that the two belonged together and had always been meant to be crossed Sam’s mind in that very moment. He was surprised to find that accompanying jealousy came delayed. Because it did come. The jealousy that he had forbidden himself to feel. The uncertainty about his place and the feeling that he wasn’t where he was meant to be - he had come to terms with the knowledge that it would never fully go away. 

But in that very moment, there had been none of that. He had felt like he used to in the very beginning. Back when Dean and Castiel had finally gotten together after years of back and forth, and Sam had been overjoyed for them. Finally. Damnit. Finally Dean had allowed himself to be happy. 

The pizza had started to taste stale then and later when Castiel had grabbed his hand on the way out, Sam had only pressed back briefly, given him an apologetic look, and stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

And then there were the memories that went back much further. It was the place that brought them out, he figured. Charlie’s youthful joy, the places he remembered and even strangers he saw on the streets. There were those who had made him stop in the middle of the sidewalk to turn around and do a double take. Maybe this was what she would have looked like right now. This was who their children would have turned out to be. 

He had never gotten to ask Jessica to marry him. But he was sure, with the wisdom that distance and time brought, that she would have said yes. Of course, he’d imagined their wedding at times. When he’d been lying in their bed unable to sleep in the middle of the night, rolling back and forth, with her curled up beside him. He’d known he was punching above his weight. He’d debated whether he should reach out and invite his father after all. Whether Dean would attend. What would happen if their families met. Whether it would be worse than if nobody from Sam’s family showed up and how he should explain their absence. How he would lie to explain a messed up family situation that was different from the truth but just as off-putting. 

But more than all the doubts he had felt, he had felt excitement. He hadn’t been looking forward to the wedding but to being married. Watching Jessica move around their apartment and seeing her in a whole new light. He had imagined her standing in front of the oven, waiting impatiently for the cookies to be done. The way she’d sat at the kitchen table in front of a textbook, her legs drawn up and her chin on her knees, with a pinched, concentrated look on her face, and tapping her forehead with a pencil. The way her mouth had twitched in her sleep. He had pictured her in all these moments, the way he had seen her every day, and imagined how he would take her in anew. How he would stand in the doorway and she was sitting in front of her easel, absorbed in her brushstrokes, and he was allowed to think: this was his wife now.

He couldn’t help comparing his would-be-wedding with the one happening right now.

He was married, he reminded himself. But his wedding had been nothing like the normal life he’d envisioned for himself as a young man. It had been less a declaration of love than it had been a sort of life insurance for their daughter. (Not that he’d not wanted to be married, he had, he still did. It meant more to him than to Castiel, he knew.) 

Back in this other life, the one he’d shared with Jessica, after Dean had pulled him away for a supposed weekend and he’d returned to a charred ceiling, he had thought he had lost the great love of his life. It didn’t lessen the pain he was feeling right now that he no longer believed in it. In the one great love.

"Is everything alright?" He had barely noticed his daughter coming to stand next to him. She looked at him with wide worried eyes.

"Yes." Sam smiled. "Sorry, I was just getting a little sentimental." 

"That’s weddings for you. I guess. This is actually my first wedding ever, so I wouldn’t actually know…" 

"Well, technically, the wedding itself doesn’t start until tomorrow." 

"Gee, Dad. Thanks." She elbowed him gently and then leaned against the wall next to him. "What were you getting sentimental about? Are you regretting that you never had a proper wedding yourself? With a reception and everything, I mean?" 

"Mmm." He hesitated for a moment. It always felt strange to tell his daughter about life before her. "No, I was thinking about Jessica. I think she would have liked this…" He met Charlie’s eye. She was scrunching up her face. "It’s a shame you never met." 

"I don't know how that would have worked." She shrugged. "If she were still alive, it would either mean that you guys split up or that I would not exist. Although…" She looked across the room. "You weren’t exactly dating Cas when I was born, either." 

"You think I would have cheated on her?" Sam wasn’t angry, he was rather fascinated by her train of thought. It seemed impossible he would ever have treated Jessica that way, but he knew you could surprise yourself by making bad choices. 

"No, you’re right, that’s more Cas’ kind of thing." She shrugged. She sounded nonchalant. "But you wish she was still here?"

"Of course," he replied immediately. "But not because I’m not happy the way things are."

"But if you could turn back time now and save her?" Her deep blue eyes were fixed on him. She was unnerved and he wanted to be honest with her.

"That’s a pretty loaded question. Of course I would want to save her but I wouldn’t want to put you at risk. The thing with time travel is that even the tiniest of change can make so much difference." 

She nodded, looking a little contrite. "The butterfly effect, yeah."

"I would never want you not to exist." 

"I know." She laughed. "Do you know what’s weird? I wasn’t even thinking about myself. I was rather upset on Dad’s behalf. I felt sorry for him that you were still hung up on someone else."

"It’s not like that," he assured her.

"Yeah, I know. You were just reminiscing." 

"It was a different life altogether."

A young woman, almost a girl, with long brown braided hair, came running towards them.  
"Charlie, there you are! I've been looking all over for you. There’s a problem with the cupcakes!" 

"Uh, okay. I guess I have to go and prevent a baked goods disaster." Charlie threw him an apologetic smile as she was already being pulled away. "You’re gonna be okay, right?"

"Sure, yes. Go," he nodded, trying to smile encouragingly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

As he left the building, he wondered how exactly they had managed to find a venue this cheap. When he’d tried to build up the courage to ask Jessica and had been looking at places he’d been horrified by the expenses. 

He dug out his phone and called Castiel, who told him that he was having lunch with Dean. He gave him the name and address of the place. Sam hesitated for a moment before setting off. The three of them were still living in the bunker together and they spent a lot of time together. Things were fine. Really. But being in this weird mood he would have preferred to meet Castiel alone. Really, he’d been fine with meeting Dean alone too. He just didn’t want to repeat the strange situation from the day before, even if no one beside him had noticed. 

He pushed the feeling down and made his way to the Burrito place a few streets away.

Once the wedding would be over and he’d be back in Kansas, he’d feel normal again. There was something about California, even after all the years that unsettled him, precisely because it still felt like a homecoming of sorts. Like someone was pulling him in different directions, and made him realize none of these places truly counted as home. 

The moment he entered the dingy restaurant he saw the two of them in a corner booth. The smell of spices and heated oil entered Sam’s nose and made him feel slightly nauseous. He paused and took in the scene. Dean sat on one side of the table. He lifted himself off the green plastic bench to hold the burrito in in front of Castiel. Castiel took a tentative bite, chewed, swallowed, and then grimaced.

Dean laughed. He reached for one of the paper towels and wiped it over Castiel’s cheek to get something off, a crumb or a little bit of sauce. Or maybe Dean just wanted to make that gesture. Behind all the harsh exterior, his brother had always been a romantic, someone to whom gestures and symbols meant more than was good for him. 

Sam suppressed the urge to turn around and take off. He couldn’t have left anyway. Instead of the bunker there was a bed in a mediocre hotel waiting for him tonight, and a mattress that was too soft and a little too short. He could hardly have told his daughter that he wasn’t going to be at her wedding because he had to leave on account of a melancholy attack.

He wiped over his face, as if to gain strength, and walked on. 

"I still don’t get it. How can you be so sensitive to hot sauce?" He heard Dean laugh. "You’re an angel." 

Sam sat down next to Castiel. His legs pressed uncomfortably against the underside of the table. 

Castiel sounded amused. "I didn’t say I was sensitive, only that I don’t like the taste."

"Hey," Sam murmured to the two of them.

"Hey." Dean beamed at him. "How did it go?"

"Still a bit messy, but I’m sure tomorrow will go great."

"As long as they both remember to yes in the right places."

Sam shrugged and reached for the plastic-sealed menu that was on the table. He was hungry but he had no appetite.

"Are you getting cold feet now?" Dean asked. It had taken quite a while for him to get used to the idea of Charlie getting married. He was still struggling with it. But after a lot of phone calls and a few visits with a lot of persuasion from Charlie’s end, he had accepted it at least superficially. At the very least he had stopped trying to talk her out of it. Maybe Dean even believed that it wasn’t going to make that much difference to his and Charlie’s relationship. 

Sam put the menu back onto the table, "I’m not the one getting married."

"Not as long as polygamy is a crime in most states anyway."

Sam bit his lip, suppressing a comment that had less to do with what Dean had said than with his own mood. A mood that had changed fairly quickly from melancholy to irritation since he’d entered the restaurant. 

The waiter - a young, hip undergraduate college student type - came to their table to take Sam’s order. On a whim he ordered a taco salad and an iced tea.

"Listen," Dean said. "We all think it’s strange that…" He trailed off and started again. "I mean, I get if you’re weirded out. Honestly, I thought it was stranger how relaxed you were about the whole thing in the first place."

"Yeah? Why?" Sam pushed the menu away and tried not to hit his knees against the table when he slid back into the seat.

Dean shrugged. "It’s normal to worry about your children." A second later, he added: "At least that’s what they say."

"Why should I be against her getting married? She’s happy. That’s the most important thing."

He could tell Dean was debating whether to go on or not. "I’d still find it odd if my daughter tried to iron out my own life by re-enacting the perfect version of it."

Sam wiped over his face. He felt Castiel’s thigh press against his. It was meant to calm him down. 

"We’ve already been through this. How many times do you need me to repeat it? She says that’s not what she’s doing."

"Obviously that’s what she says." Dean took a sip of his coke. "What else could she say? She just wants you to like her." 

"She knows she doesn’t have to impress me. She can live her own life. Make her own choices." 

Dean showed him the inside of his hands, shrugged, and then took the burrito of its plate again. 

Sam’s taco salad came. The portion was enormous and the greasy sauce smothered everything. Sam couldn’t remember why he had ordered it. 

"Sure she does," Dean continued once the waiter was gone. "But there’s something off about someone who can’t even legally order a beer already settling down. She’s doing this for you. She’s doing this to appease you - and I know that’s not on you, but that perfect little life she’s trying to lead? It’s going to blow up in her face eventually."

"What do you think she should do instead? You want her to spend her days driving through the Midwest in an old car to chase some ghosts?"

Dean put down his burrito and narrowed his eyes. "My life is really the worst thing you can imagine, huh?" 

Sam rolled his eyes. "I wasn’t talking about your life, I was talking about mine."

"That’s the same thing." 

"Why are you being like this?" Sam grabbed a napkin and started twisting it in his hands. "You’re the one who thinks something’s wrong with Charlie because she doesn’t want to follow into your footsteps. You’re the one who still trots out Dad’s old party line about the family business. You just can’t stand that she’s doing her own thing."

"That’s bullshit. And beside the point." 

Sam clenched the napkin in his left hand and slowly released it again. "No, that’s exactly the point. You still can’t accept that she left. You took it personally. Don’t you think Cas and I miss her too? You could try showing her you love her without always chewing her fiance’s head off. It just makes you look petty and jealous."

A cynical smile formed on Dean’s face. "Don’t hold back, Sam.Tell me what you really think."

"No." Sam pushed himself out of the seat; his knees bumped against the table. 

"No?"

"No, I’m not telling you what I’m thinking right now. I am in a bad mood and irritable. You want to fight for some reason and I don’t want to. I just want to be happy for my daughter, okay? I really don’t need you trying to guilt trip me right now." 

Dean laughed. "No wonder where Charlie got it from. You were always good at running off too." 

For an incredible short moment, Sam felt the need to throw the salad into Dean’s face. He did not. He fished a 20 dollar bill out of his pocket and threw it onto the table.

"Dean," he heard Castiel say behind him. "Was this really necessary?" 

"Of course," Dean replied. "Of course you’re taking his side." 

"I’m not taking anyone’s side."

Sam hurried back to the hotel. It was not uncommon to argue with Dean, but it had been a long time since Sam had ended a fight like this. By storming off instead of trying to appease Dean. And Cas… Of course, he’d stayed with Dean. Because Sam had been the one behaving so over the top. 

Sam felt angry as he stood in the tiny bathroom, taking off his clothes. The plastic shower door rattled as he pulled it open. He turned the heater to the highest setting. The burning water helped a little. At least he no longer felt quite so outside of his own body. 

His skin was bright red as he stepped out of the bathroom, the towel around his waist.

Castiel was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was wearing his trench coat and still had his shoes on.

"I didn’t hear you come in," Sam said and stopped a few steps in front of the bed. The room was small, there were not many alternative routes for him to take. 

"How are you?" Castiel asked. He looked at him intently.

"I’m fine." Sam looked towards the door. "If you’re talking about the argument with Dean, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s going to be forgotten by tomorrow anyway. If you came back early because of that, you shouldn’t have. I’m okay." 

Castiel’s eyes softened. "My question about your condition was of a more general nature." 

"Okay." Sam looked around the room for his bag until he remembered that he had put his clothes into the closet. He had to pass Castiel to get to his stuff. 

"Sam." Castiel reached for his wrist as he tried to shuffle past. "Please talk to me. Don’t hide from me." 

"What do you want me to say?" Sam tore his arm free. He was a little startled by his own aggression. Castiel hadn’t done anything wrong. "I’m sorry. It’s just. The Wedding. Charlie. All of it. It’s all just a bit much for me right now. It’s not really about Dean. He just knows how to push my buttons.”

Castiel nodded. "I see.”

Sam went over to the closet to retrieve a pair of fresh boxer shorts. He pulled them on and dropped the towel onto the floor. "And then earlier… I don’t know. It’s everything. The whole trip. And this place."

"This place makes you sad?" Castiel asked. 

Sam turned around, surprised. "Not really sad per se."

Castiel looked at him, waiting for more of an explanation. 

"It just made me think Jessica and everything she never got to have, even though she’d deserved to. Everything that was taken from her. Just because of me. Just because she had to die so early because of me. I guess I just couldn’t stand hearing that I’ve ruined another person’s life too."

"You haven’t ruined Charlie’s life," Castiel said. "And your brother doesn’t think so either."

"No, but he thinks she’s living this perfect life here so I can live through her."

When Castiel didn’t answer, Sam faltered. "You agree with him?"

"No.” It was clear Castiel tried to choose the next words carefully. "I just feel that Dean’s attack might not have hit you so hard if you hadn’t had similar thoughts yourself. It cannot be denied that our daughter is clearly more oriented towards you than me in her current lifestyle choices." 

"It’s pretty obvious why she doesn’t want anything to do with angels and heaven anymore, isn’t it?"

"It’s never good to suppress parts of yourself."

"And you think that’s what she’s been doing?" Sam put on a shirt and began to button it up. 

"She is studying to be a doctor, even though she’s already capable of healing anyone she wants to heal. Is that not a form of suppression of herself and her abilities?"

Sam halted, left the last buttonholes unbuttoned and eyed Castiel. He usually looked so young, but now his tired face was filled with dark shadows, and he looked older. "Do you take that as an affront to yourself?" He paused. "You got to know that that’s not true. Charlie loves you."

"I am very aware. I have no doubt about her love for me. I just think Dean is not entirely wrong that our daughter has an interest in emulating your life. This is not a criticism. I don’t even think it’s necessarily a bad thing, but — "

"Did you think of that yourself, or did Dean convince you?"

A deep furrow formed on Castiel’s forehead. "I was capable of reaching this conclusion myself."

Sam had done it; Castiel’s voice too had taken on an irritated tone. They hardly ever fought. And now, the night before their daughter’s wedding, Sam had managed to irritate Castiel. Still a voice inside his head pointed out that it hadn’t really been him who’d started the argument. 

"Sam." The sharp tone was gone. Castiel got up and went to him. He put his hands on Sam’s shoulders. "The wedding and this trip is a nerve-wracking time for all of us. My question about your condition... I’d assumed that it was the current stressful situation that’s causing your bad mood and your detachment. That’s why I tried to give you space and not urge you to explain yourself. You know that I’m always there for you."

"I know you are."

"If there is anything else that is bothering you, please tell me. After all these years, I hope that there is no need for you to hide things from me." 

"I’m not hiding anything from you," Sam hurried to say. "I think it’s really mainly the wedding." 

"If it’s the associated memories of Jessica that are bothering you," Castiel started, but Sam shook his head.

"No, the memories don’t bother me." He smiled. "Maybe they make me a little melancholic, but there are good memories too."

"I see.” Castiel smiled, albeit a little sadly. "I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to feel bad on my account. I know how much you loved her. If you feel the need to talk about her, I am here to listen."

”Thank you.” Sam meant it. 

Castiel hugged him.

"Sorry," Sam muttered. "What a stupid pointless fight." 

"I hardly think that this counts as a real fight."

"Point taken. But it still feels stupid to argue about Charlie’s future plans the night before her wedding." 

"Why?"

"Well. I don’t know. It seems a little late. I think now is the point where we’re supposed to learn to let go more. Even if she were making wrong decisions, they’re hers. She is an adult."

"That does not mean that we stop worrying about her. I don’t think that point will ever come." Castiel hesitated. "Furthermore, I believe that this argument has little to do with Charlie herself. I think a lot of Charlie’s actions trigger different feelings and insecurities in ourselves. But this isn’t on her."

"Yeah.” Sam exhaled heavily. "I know.”

Castiel still had his arms around him. Sam tried to focus on the touch, on the soft pressure of his fingers against his skin.

"I love you very much, Sam. I hope you don’t feel any doubts about that." 

"I love you too."

Sam leaned his forehead against Castiel’s. They were silent.

* * *

Sam didn’t let go of Charlie for a long time. She didn’t seem to mind; she pressed her face into his chest.

He kissed her forehead. "How are you feeling?”

"I feel good." She nodded against him. "Really good."

He loosened the hug a little and brushed a strand of hair out her sweaty forehead. She looked tired but well.

"Is it bad that I’m glad you didn’t change your name?"

"I would never!" Her smile widened. "And you know Dean would have disowned me." She looked around. "Where is he, by the way? I haven’t really had time to talk to him yet." 

"Well, you were kind of busy just now." 

"You’re looking at me like something bad has just happened. I got married, I didn’t sell my soul." 

"I’m sorry. Really." Sam stroked over her arm. "I know that’s a horrible Dad question and I’m not supposed to ask again but: You’re really happy, aren’t you? This is the life you really want, not what you think someone else might want you to live?" 

"I am happy." She took a step back and studied him. "Did Dean manage to talk you into this nonsense? That I’m just trying to relive your glory days? He did, didn’t he?"

"No, of course not.” Sam tried to smile at her. "But just to be absolutely sure: you’re not, right?" 

"Dad!”

"I’ll shut up. I promise."

She sighed. Her blue dress swirled up as she turned around to face the crowd, the people with whom she would have preferred to celebrate her wedding rather than being squeezed and questioned by her father. Dean had asked about the choice of color. She had answered that she definitely didn’t want to get married dressed in a snow-white sheet that made her look like a virgin or the epitome of an angel cliché. Sam had been glad that Castiel hadn’t been there to hear it. It was quite possible that he’d have taken the comment the wrong way. 

At some point Charlie turned back to him. "How do you ever really know why you want the things you want and why they make you happy? Is it possible that I got some of my notions about what a good life looks like from you? Duh. But: so what?" She shrugged. "I don’t see why that would be such a big deal. Everything comes from somewhere. And I’m happy."

It was difficult to find a flaw in her logic. "Well, that’s the most important thing." He looked over the people. "What do your friends actually know about your family situation? When I met your, uh, husband’s family earlier, they all seemed a little overwhelmed."

"They all know that you are my fathers. They just don’t necessarily know what that means." She looked down at the floor. "I mean, when someone asked, when they wanted to know what happened to my mom or something, I’d usually just change the subject. Or I said that it didn’t matter. That you guys are my family. And most of them accept that too. If they didn’t accept it then, well, they’re not here today." 

A prickling feeling of pride overcame him. He looked at his daughter for a moment, thinking that she would be fine. That despite everything he, Cas and, in his own way, Dean had brought her up well. Or at least hadn’t messed her up too much. 

"Besides, I think more people are confused about Dean than about the whole 2 Dads thing." 

He didn’t know what she meant. 

"I’ve had people guessing all kinds of things." She counted on her fingers. "That he’s my father, my brother, a jealous ex." She laughed and rubbed over her nose. "Like I’d ever date someone this much older."

"You’ve dated other people?" he asked, only half seriously.

She punched his shoulder. "I think I should check on my husband. Doesn’t that sound totally fake? 'My husband'?"

They hugged once more. When Sam let go of her, he saw someone walking quickly into their direction. 

"I don’t think you have to look for your husband anymore," Sam said. 

Jason had bright red ears. He glances nervously from Sam to Charlie.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. 

"Yes." He nodded too quickly. "Yes, I’d just checked out the bathrooms here." He ran a hand through his hair. 

"And you saw a ghost there or what?" Charlie asked him with an eyebrow raised.

"No. No. It was fine. Just - Your father." He paused, looked at Sam and shook his head. "It was nothing." 

"O-kay." Charlie linked arms with Jason. "You sure everything is okay? Did the wedding overwhelm you?"

"I’m great. Really."

"Let me give you some space." Sam patted both of them on the shoulder and made his way to the bathroom. He almost ran into Dean guarding the door, who was looking down and looping his belt.

"Heya, Sammy." Dean wiped his hands over his pants and then tried to flatten his hair. "Great ceremony, huh?" 

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"You don’t think so?"

"I do." 

Dean grabbed his arm and tried to drag him with him, but Sam stayed put.

"Hey man, is everything okay? Jason was pretty distraught and -" 

The bathroom door opened and Castiel stepped out. He was wearing a fitted black suit and it still felt strange to see him dressed up like this. 

Castiel straightened his tie and looked up. When he saw Sam, he froze for only a millisecond then he frowned before his expression turned blank. 

"We were just talking about how awesome the ceremony went," Dean told him as he stepped up to them. 

"Yes." Castiel nodded and let go of his tie. "It was very moving."

"Totally." 

Sam ran a hand over his face. Then he looked at Castiel, who couldn’t have looked more guilty if he tried, and Dean, whose poker face was pretty good.

"Charlie was looking for you," Sam told him and Dean nodded. "Thanks." 

Sam pointed in the direction where he had come from. Then he pushed past Castiel into the bathroom.

If the weeks and days before had seemed like an unclear dreamlike haze, this took the cake. A numbness took over his whole body with force as he tried to order his thoughts. 

He had never talked to Castiel again about the offer he’d made over a year ago. Castiel hadn’t really replied and Sam had taken that as an answer in itself. The weeks after he had waited for something to happen. Truth be told, he had waited for his cue to leave. 

There had been moments, of course, when he’d suspected Castiel might have talked to Dean, but Sam had dismissed these thoughts. And the more had time passed, the unlikelier it had seemed. If Dean and Castiel had talked about it, if they had tried to 'explore their feelings for each other' - or whatever flowery term Sam had used - then he would have noticed something. It would have ended in an unmissable fight or in them getting back together. It would have ended with them asking Sam to go. 

He hadn’t felt like he was in a position to ask. He had offered it after all. You couldn’t really take that back. And he had meant it at the time - God, he still did in a way. He was sure Castiel hadn’t taken it the wrong way either. Dean deserved happiness, and if Castiel was happy either way, who was Sam to stand in the way? On a purely rational level, he still agreed that offering had been the right thing to do. 

Then why was he now sitting on a toilet lid with his head on his hands and his eyes pressed together so tightly that he started seeing stars. The plastic beneath him creaked with each of his body’s movements. 

It was ridiculous, he was being absolutely ridiculous. He didn’t even know what he was so upset about; he felt both the loss of Charlie and his own accompanied sense of purpose, and the black pit inside his stomach when he thought of Castiel. 

He had no doubt that Castiel loved him. It was just: Everything felt decayed and frayed around the edges. Nothing like what he had once hoped his life to be. And again and again there was this image of Jessica before his eyes. He had romanticized her so much that she had long stopped being a real person, and had become a mere symbol of a perfect life ruined by his existence. 

He sat there on the toilet seat for a good ten minutes. Then he wiped over his face, checked himself in the mirror and went outside. He stayed at the wedding until most of the guests had left, managing to avoid both Dean and Castiel without really trying hard. After Charlie had told him three times that he should leave and no, they weren’t going to clean up anything tonight anyway, he finally listened and went to get his things. 

He found Dean slouched on a plastic chair, his jacket folded over the back of it. Sam knew his brother was drunk before he’d even stepped up to him. He told him he was going to head back to the hotel, and asked whether he was going to be okay. Dean told him he would be. 

Sam looked around for Castiel. He was sure that he had to be somewhere nearby.

"Are you looking for Cas? He already left." Dean rubbed over his eyes. "Almost an hour ago. I honestly thought you guys left together." Now he looked directly at Sam.

"No," Sam said. "Did he say where he wanted to go?"

Dean shrugged. "Back to the hotel, I guess." Just as Sam was about to leave, he said: "Listen… About earlier..."

Sam winced.

"I know you’re not dumb." Dean seemed to sober up as he spoke. "I know you know what’s going on. And I obviously know that you gave your blessing. But still." He pointed back and forth between himself and Sam. "Kind of strange, huh?"

Sam stood up straight. He didn’t want to do this. 

"So so weird, man," Dean said, almost to himself. "I never figured it would end like this, did you?" 

"Like what?" he asked, tight-lipped. 

"That we’d both be with him." 

"Mhm," was all Sam said.

Dean’s eyes searched his. "Thank you, Sam. I really mean it. I know you didn’t have to do this." 

He couldn’t answer. He felt dizzy. No, he felt like he was drowning again. Felt the pressure on his eardrums grow with each second he stood here. 

"I know you don’t want to talk about it. Or hear much about it. And believe me, I get it. I don’t want to either. It’s easier not to think too much about it, I know, cause it’s kind of fucked up. And I’ve kept my mouth shut all these months because why rock the boat? But… Thanks. You know how much this means to me. I haven’t been this happy in… God? How many years?" Dean laughed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Someone had changed the music to soft indie rock, its sound mixed with the chatter of the remaining guests. "Fuck, I’m wasted." Dean lowered his face and spoke into his own lap. "Cas is... Besides you and Charlie, he’s the most important thing in my life. And that’s never changed and I don’t think it ever will."

"I know.” 

It was the first thing Sam had said in a while.

"I know it’s not perfect now. I know it’s not what either of us truly wanted, but it works, doesn’t it? It does." He paused. "Thank you, Sam. I’m not sure if I would have been able to do it." 

Sam forced out a smile. Then he raised his hand. "See you tomorrow, Dean. Get some rest soon, okay?"

"Sure." Dean smiled a lopsided smile. "You’re the best, Sam." 

His throat and stomach burned as if he had drunk buckets of acid. For a second he considered not going straight back to the hotel. But what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to go to a bar and sit amongst strangers trying to drown his grief. He was tired and exhausted. And he simply didn’t dare walk in any other direction than the hotel’s. He didn’t trust himself to turn around again. 

He still held the room key card in his hands when he saw him. Castiel stood at the window, looking out over the city. He had taken off his black jacket. It lay on the bed alongside the tie. His shoes stood beside the bed. Sam thought he looked like someone important on a business trip.

Sam carefully closed the door behind him. "How long have you been standing there like this?" 

"For a while," Castiel answered without turning around.

Sam took off his shoes, left them in the narrow hallway and came to stand beside him at the window. "What are you doing?”

"I’m thinking.” Now Castiel turned to him. "Do you sometimes miss our old apartment?"

Sam shrugged. 

"Sometimes. I don’t think about it too much." 

"I do. I often wish to go back in time." 

Castiel looked through the window again. The lights of the night made his face look ghostly. He felt for Sam’s hand and squeezed it. "Did I hurt you today?" he asked, his eyes fixed.

Sam thought for a while. "I’m hurt, yeah, but it’s okay."

Castiel answered quickly. "No, it’s not." 

Sam squeezed his hand. 

"Yes it is. It’s not on you. You did what I asked you to. I said I didn’t want to know about it and Dean said it’s been going on for months, so you were clearly really careful and respected my wishes. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. I mean, really, everything is fine. I was just surprised is all." Sam pressed his nose against the glass and tried to see what Castiel saw amidst the darkness and lights. "It was a wonderful wedding."

"I don’t want to hurt you," Castiel said. He let go of Sam’s hand.

"Okay." Sam waited, but no further explanation came. He looked up. "I know I said I don’t want to talk about it. But you and him. I mean - I just figured nothing ever came of it. Which is stupid, I know. I guess I was just telling myself what I wanted to hear. That Dean was doing better for other reasons." After a pause he said, "I’m just trying to get a clearer picture." 

Castiel nodded, prompting him to continue.

"When?" 

"When?" Castiel repeated his question. 

"When did it start?" 

"Sam." The gentle way he said his name hurt. 

"I just want to understand." 

After a while, Castiel replied. "I spoke to him the following day." 

"Wow, okay." 

Why did it feel like everything around him was collapsing again. Why did it feel like Castiel was about to break up with him. Nothing had changed today besides his own perception of reality. And he’d been fine the way things were, so he could still be fine with it now. 

Sam unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. He needed more air. He sat down on the edge of the bed facing the window.

"You don’t need to tell me any details," said Sam. He was unsure if he wanted to know any or not. "Dean thanked me." His own voice sounded strangely muted in his own ears. "He thanked me for the fact that we both could be with you. Somehow, I don’t know, there was something about the way he worded it, you know?" The pounding in his ears was back. "I don’t feel like I ever agreed to this. But when I think about what I told you, I guess I did. So why do I feel like I’ve been lied to? I don’t have a right to feel hurt." 

Castiel turned and leaned against the window. He held out his hands like a pastor before a baptism. "Come here, Sam."

Sam hesitated. Then he pushed himself off the bed and went up to Castiel. He let Castiel entangle their fingers. 

"I should have known that it would hurt you," Castiel said. "I was being egotistical." 

"No." Sam shook his head. "You did exactly what I told you to do. I wanted Dean and you to be happy. And that’s what you did. I just never thought…" Now that he allowed himself to think it through, he had never thought Dean would be satisfied with anything that wasn’t clear cut.

"It’s not the thought of you being with him." He hesitates. "It’s knowing that you wanted it so much." He pulled his hands out of Castiel’s. "Were you unhappy all the years before? Did you miss him this much all the time?"

"I was never unhappy with you."

"You know what I mean.”

Castiel wiped his hands on his shirt and let them fall at his side. 

"I feel like I broke something between us. I would like to fix it." 

Sam laughed even though he didn’t feel like it.

"I don’t know what that means."

Castiel came closer. "I have an idea, but I understand if you’re hesitant." 

"No, Cas. I don’t think—"

Castiel shook his head. "It’s not what you think. I can’t imagine it would suit you or your brother’s interests."

Sam knew that deep down Dean could not be satisfied with this situation. That he wanted Castiel for himself, the same way he asked and needed exclusive loyalty from others. From Sam. And from Charlie too. 

"I’ve been thinking about it since we got here," Castiel said; Sam still had no idea what he was talking about. "I miss Charlie very much. I know that she is suppressing a part of her self, but I accept that. Even if it makes me sad to see her do so, I understand that she can make her own choices. I respect that she wishes to live a life that I don’t understand. Still... I wish I could see more of her. I don’t know if it’s strange or unusual for human beings, but frankly I don’t care much. I would like to see her more often than a few times a year." 

"What are you saying?"

"I want to stay here," Castiel said. "I’m asking you if you want to move here with me."

"You want us to move to California?" 

Sam just stared at Castiel. 

"If Charlie doesn’t mind, of course. But we would not need to live exactly where she is staying, just closer than Kansas. There are a few places that would be appropriate, but I would not want to go without you. Do you… want to?" 

"Yes," Sam heard himself say. "I do. But.” He was still trying to process the turn the conversation had taken. "When you say you want us to move there, you mean…"

"I’m talking about you and me. But it’s up to you. I don’t want you to live a life that makes you unhappy." 

A strange mixture of feelings flowed through Sam. Even though he hadn’t said anything yet, a bad conscience creeped up on him. But there was relief and a sense of anticipation too. He did want to stay here, he knew. 

He took Castiel’s face in his hands and pulled him closer.The kiss was gentle. Castiel’s hand moved under Sam’s undershirt and slid over his warm skin. With each touch Sam felt himself waking up, slowly, like he was being pulled out of a deep slumber. 

Castiel broke away from him, startling him. But then he took Sam’s hand in his once more and turned both of them towards the window. 

"It’s not quite Seattle," Castiel said. 

Sam laughed. He stepped behind Castiel, put his arms around his waist and leaned his chin onto his shoulder. 

"But it’s beautiful in its own way," Castiel continued. 

Sam pressed his nose into Castiel’s neck and nodded against his skin. 

"It is." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. This chapter was a bit of a monster to get through in editing and also I'm not really ready to let go off this story (the next chapter is the last...). 
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading, and especially thanks if you've taken the time to comment anywhere in this story. It really means a lot to us.


	21. Year 21

Whenever Dean looked up at the white wooden panels where the paint was already peeling off, it all felt like a strange dream to him. It was absurd that he lived here, that this was his house now - or more accurately his’, Sam’s and Castiel’s. California of all places.

Whenever he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he couldn’t hear the rattle of an old ventilation system but only the distant sound of ocean waves, his heart paused. Only when the memories of the past years came back to him could he sink back into his pillow. A part of him missed the bunker and Kansas. The protection it offered, the feeling of security and home. Most of all he missed the past itself. But when the sun rose and he sat down on the wooden bench in the overgrown garden with a cup of coffee in his hand, everything was fine. He closed his eyes and let the bright rays warm his face.

"Are you asleep, Dean?"

As soon as he recognized the voice, a smile spread across his lips. He kept his eyes closed for another moment before opening them and looked up at Castiel.

"No, I’m just thinking."

"What are you thinking about?" 

Dean shrugged. He had hoped that Castiel would sit down next to him, but he remained leaning against the house. Dean stood up to embrace him. Castiel studied Dean with interest in his eyes, but he didn’t do anything for or against the touch. He just let it happen. 

"I’m trying to figure out what I need to fix next. I would like to rebuild the porch. At some point we could have a barbecue out there, maybe even have some people over eventually. But the bathrooms are… terrible?" He laughed. "This house is a bottomless pit. But I think the roof is the most important for now." He pointed up to the wooden shingles. "Once fall comes around, it would be nice if it stopped raining inside. I got nothing against all the buckets standing around, but if I ever end up with some serious rain, it’d be a deluge. We’d be flooded in no time." 

Castiel nodded, then they were quiet. There was only the sea that roared in the distance and the highway on the other side doing much the same.

"Yes, you’re right. This house is not in a good condition structurally."

He had addressed it himself, and yet Castiel’s words irked him. Why didn’t it sound like Castiel was stating a fact to him, but like criticism? As if the condition of the house was Dean’s personal fault. Maybe because ever since they had moved here four months ago, Sam had thrown him the same dark look every single day. As if the world was going to end and as if this house, this life, everything was beneath him. 

"I know it’s not the Hilton and your apartment in Seattle was a million times more beautiful, modern and superior in every way." He let go of Castiel who was still looking at him with unfathomable eyes. Dean wondered if it was because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or if he didn’t understand what Dean was talking about. "Real estate prices in California are a little crazy. Even my super smart brother must have realized what he was getting himself into when he started looking for houses out here."

Everything about this conversation felt wrong. That Dean pretended to be an expert on property prices and that they talked about Sam as if he was far away. 

"Sam is aware of the high real estate prices here in California," Castiel finally replied. "I have heard him bemoan how anyone should afford moving here who isn’t rich. He told me about the development of prices in accordance with the rise of Silicon Valley throughout the decades." 

There he went defending Sam again.

"Sam should be happy that I found this house at all." He patted the wall like a rider patted the neck of his animal. "I know that the house stood around unused for a long time and there is obviously a lot to fix, but the location is ideal and I got it for next to nothing."

"Next to nothing? You stole it off a senile woman, even though we said we were done with illegal crap." 

Dean turned and was not surprised to see Sam standing in the doorway. His brown hair fell over face and covered his eyes. With a few steps he stood next to Castiel.

"That’s what you got a problem with, Sam? Seriously?" Dean snorted. "You can’t take it with you. Sally knows that. She has been living in this nursing home for so long now and there are no heirs. It’s important to her that someone takes care of the house. The agreement we have is good for all of us." He pointed towards the horizon. "Look, you can even see the sea from here. You always wanted to live by the sea. The property alone is worth a ton. We’d never have found something like this again." 

"That’s why a thousand dollars and a weekly visit, sneaking in a bottle of gin and a box of cigarettes, is a joke. You dragged Jason and Charlie into this. You made them help you find this woman’s address and get you into the retirement home." Sam shook his hand. "A long-lost nephew. What a joke." 

"She knows the truth and she agreed to do all of it. Besides, the material that I need for the repair costs half a fortune itself. She would have paid tons of money if she’d wanted to get this house done by anyone else. You won’t recognize the house once I’m done." He wanted to sound conciliatory. "You’ll see: I’m building a real home for us."

Something in the look that Sam and Cas shared turned his stomach. He couldn’t even say what it was that was fueling his anger. It made him feel like they were playing Piggy in the middle and he was the pig.

"You said that we wanted to move to California to live closer to Charlie and I happened to find this really great, empty house and somehow, that’s not good enough for you?" He couldn’t help his voice from getting louder. "What do you want apart from bringing us all down with your shitty mood?"

"I would have found something myself." Sam had also become louder. "You can’t just make these big life decisions for me without talking to me first. I… Cas…" Now he was quieter again. "It just wasn’t meant to be like this." Then he broke off. "Forget it." With three steps Sam had disappeared into the house. Dean heard the door slam. He wanted to follow him but then he felt Castiel’s hand on his shoulder holding him back.

"I just don’t understand him." Dean put a hand to his forehead. "He’s driving me nuts. What the hell is up with him? Can you help me make sense of him? He’s like a pissed off teenager." 

Castiel was still standing against the wall.

"Do you think it’s because of Charlie?" The anger had left his voice. "I mean, it’s hard for all of us, but seeing how Sam is kind of, well, her mother."

"Dean…"

"All I’m saying is, I get why he’d be taking it harder than you and me. But I figure we need to stick together more closely now than ever, right?" 

"I don’t know, Dean. Or rather: I think you should talk about things pertaining to Sam with Sam himself."

Something in Castiel’s face made him look infinitely tired and exhausted. He squinted against the sun. 

Dean took Castiel’s hands in his. 

"You know you’re one of us too, right? That you belong with us?" 

He drew Castiel in and pressed his lips to his bowed forehead.

"I know that."

"With me too, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, with you too."

"You do like the house, don’t you?" 

Dean stroked through his dark hair and then over his cheek.

"I’m sure it will look very beautiful in the end and I appreciate the proximity to the sea."

Dean smiled.

"It’s just…" Castiel hesitated. "Maybe it’s not the best idea that we’re all so very close to each other all the time. Maybe we —" 

"Of course it is." Dean interrupted him. "We belong together. Sammy, you and me. Just because Sam is a little unstable because of Charlie right now doesn’t mean that something has to change, does it?"

Castiel didn’t answer; he looked unhappy. Dean put his hand to his cheek and kissed his lips. After a moment the stiffness in Castiel vanished and he returned the kiss. For a moment, it felt okay again. When they parted, their faces were tinted red. 

"I know Sam. He needs me right now more than ever. And imagine if we didn’t live together," Dean whispered as he put his arms around Castiel’s waist. "How much harder this here would be. We couldn’t just sneak away whenever we felt like it. Everything would have to be planned and mapped out." 

Castiel had buried his face in Dean’s neck. It was not a romantic gesture. It was like a child who wanted to be comforted. 

"Nothing’s changed, has it? This is still what you want?" Dean whispered as he cared through Castiel’s hair. "You love me, don’t you?" 

Castiel nodded against his skin.

"That’s good. Because I love you more than I should. More than is good for me. The fear of losing you all over again keeps me up at night. I couldn’t take it." 

This was up there with the cheesiest things he’d ever said and every single word felt like a sharp stone on his tongue. He was glad that the words were out, but now everything hurt.

"I know," Castiel murmured against his neck. He said nothing else. 

"Do you want to take a walk on the beach?"

Castiel shook his head as he drew away. 

"Another time. I have to go and speak to Sam."

Now they were strangers facing each other again. Dean reached for his cup. The coffee had gone cold long ago.

"I guess I should head to the hardware store. I ordered some wood a few days ago and I keep forgetting to go." 

Castiel nodded. "Don’t forget that Charlie and Jason invited us over to dinner tonight."

"I’d never forget that."

"We’ll see each other later, then."

A nod, a bang of the door, then Dean was left alone in the garden. Apart from the sea rustling in the distance, everything was quiet.

* * *

"Hi Dad. Dad. Uncle Dean." Charlie greeted them at the front door. "Come on in."

"Hi," Jason called from the kitchen. "I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t want the pudding to burn." 

"Don’t worry, we get it," Sam shouted back. Dean followed him into the narrow hallway where he tried to take off his shoes without getting hit in his face by Sam’s elbow .

"We brought you flowers." Castiel handed his daughter a bouquet of colorful spring flowers. 

"Oh they’re beautiful, but you know that wouldn’t have been necessary."

"We know." Finally Dean had succeeded and put his shoes next to the door. He hoped he didn’t smell of sweat. He had only bathed in the sea earlier. "But Cas was pretty adamant." 

She looked for a vase in one of the kitchen cupboards.

"I wanted them to cheer you up and I thought they matched the color of your apartment."

"They do. Thank you, Dad." She put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him in. "We’ll put them onto the table, okay? Then we can look at them while we’re eating."

A little later they all sat around the kitchen table. Zeppelin, the dog, lay on his blanket and looked longingly at the casserole. Charlie and Jason had kept their apartment after the wedding. It was well-cut, relatively cheap and, above all, close to university.

The two had told them again and again that once they’d graduated they wanted to look for something better, a house even. Dean didn’t really understand how they were going to do that, considering the property prices in the Bay Region. But once she was a full-fledged doctor and he a no-clue-but-something-to-do-with-computers, the two would surely have a big budget at their disposal. 

"This tastes great," Sam praised Jason’s cooking and brought another fork to his mouth.

Dean still had a strange feeling when he looked at the door sign or the wedding pictures, which were hung in colorful frames all over the apartment. The Winchesters live here. It felt surreal.

"Thank you, but it’s easier to make than it looks and I really enjoy cooking." Jason put the glass baking dish back in the oven. "Anyone else want some fresh herbs?"

"Dean is a very good cook too. Maybe you could give him the recipe," Castiel said to Dean’s surprise.

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah. Dean’s burgers were always amazing. Every fast food restaurant would kill to have him as a chef." She laughed. "But when I was growing up, Sam was the one who cooked most of the time." 

"Dean wasn’t home most of the time," Sam said. "He was hunting a lot. And later when we lived apart… Well, I was the one who did most of the cooking, either way." 

Charlie nodded. "Unfortunately." She turned to her husband. "You got to know, Sam fought an eternal fight against windmills because he wanted to get me to eat more healthily." She took a sip from her glass. "He had a phase in Seattle where he only used spelt flour in everything. When I was supposed to bring a cake to school, people actually spat it out." 

Everyone laughed. Everyone except Sam, who looked uncomfortable. 

"Well, having a child does that to you. It changes everything. You just want what’s best for them. That’s normal, I think." 

Suddenly the table went quiet and even Zeppelin seemed to have stopped drooling.

"Hey, does anyone else want another helping?" Jason asked into the silence.

"Sure." Sam held out his plate.

"Oh, I’m such an idiot." Charlie jumped up. Her long hair fell in front of her face. "I forgot the drinks. Who wants a beer?" Without waiting for an answer, she slipped out of the kitchen and then into her shoes.

"I put a couple of bottles in the fridge. You don’t have to —"

"Yes, but I’ll get some from the basement. Then we don’t have to go again later." 

The door closed behind her and an audible collective exhale went through the room. Then there was silence again. 

Sam was the first to find his speech again. "How are you really?"

Jason shrugged.

"Have I already told you that Science wants to print an article on Charlie’s work?"

"I don’t give a rat’s ass about Charlie’s shiny career right about now," Dean said. "Tell us how she’s doing!"

"She had a miscarriage. How do you think she’s doing?" He raised his hands and then put them back next to the plate. Everyone nodded, as if they knew exactly what he meant, even Castiel. "But if I’m being honest, I have no idea how she is. She doesn’t speak to me. At least not about anything important. She goes on as if nothing’s happened. She has her work and her studies." He pulled the corner of his mouth into a sad smile. "If it weren’t for the ultrasound scan and the room, I would ask myself whether…" He looked at them helplessly. "Are all angels like that? That they just split off parts of themselves that they don’t like?"

Dean wanted to answer but he was silenced by the front door opening. 

Charlie heaved a whole crate of beer into the kitchen. The dog greeted her wagging its tail as if she’d been gone a thousand years. "Have I already told you that my supervisor submitted an article of mine to Science and maybe they will print it?" She opened one of the beer bottles with a lighter. "You know, the one about growing mini-organs from stem cells?"

* * *

It was late in the evening and Dean had only meant to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t explain to himself why he took the other door instead, the one to the former small guest room. It was probably his typical masochistic behavior. The room looked very different from what he remembered, as if it didn’t belong to the apartment at all. Even though it was already dark, the light falling through the crack of the door was enough to highlight the yellow of the walls and the small cot. He took a step inside and was surprised to see he wasn’t alone.

"Sam? What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam dropped a soft toy onto the mattress.

"I don’t know. The same as you, I guess. Grief work?"

They were both silent. It was so dark that they could hardly see more than each other’s contours.

"They shouldn’t have started changing up the room so early on."

"We waited until the eighth month before we got anything, didn’t we?" Sam asked. 

Dean nodded. They both didn’t mention that it had been so late, because Sam had planned to give Charlie away after the birth. Sam was probably thinking about it too. 

"Fate has a strange sense of humor. I didn’t want a child at the time and had her and she --" He broke off. "I always thought that at some point I’d have to console her for accidentally triggering an apocalypse or something like that. I have experience with that, I get that kind of thing. But this?" He picked up the toy again. "This overwhelms me."

"Me too." Dean had come closer. "But she doesn’t have a bad life for a Winchester, does she? I mean, heaven kidnapped her this one time and she stole their prophet, but she hasn’t even died once so far."

Sam smiled weakly. "Apparently this happens to a lot of women."

"Yes. She’ll be fine." 

When the door opened and Jason stuck his head in, Dean felt strangely caught.

"Here you are," he said and looked around. "I know it’s silly that I haven’t let her clear everything away yet. I just needed a little more time."

"You’ll be okay," Sam said. "The both of you. You are still so young and you have plenty of time ahead of you. You got an eternity to figure out your lives." 

Jason nodded, though his face was hard to make out in the dark.

"An eternity. That word takes on a whole different meaning when you’re with an angel, doesn’t it?"

Dean couldn’t tell who he was looking at, Sam or him, or if he was just focusing on the mobile hanging above the cot. 

* * *

The next few days were uneventful. Dean repaired the old wooden roof, which took more time than he’d expected. The rough sea climate had made some of the shingles so porous that they were falling apart between his fingers. Sometimes Sam came to help him. It surprised Dean every time, for if Sam wasn’t out here helping him fix the roof, his brother avoided him. And even if they were in the same room, Sam’s mind seemed far away. In the past few weeks he’d been oscillating between passive aggression and an eerie calm, as if he had lost a child and not his daughter. But if Dean was being honest with himself, he knew it had started earlier. Sam had been distant ever since they’d moved. He knew Sam was in pain, and felt helpless in the face of it. 

Today, too, they worked beside each other in perfect silence. They worked like clockwork, perfectly in sync with each other and yet Dean felt the distance that lay between them like impenetrable fog. 

"Look," Dean said, pointing to his bare back. "That’s got to be the first sunburn of my life."

Sam’s face remained motionless, but his fingers touched the burnt skin.

"You should be more careful. You can get a heatstroke if you stand in the sun all day without a shirt on."

"It’s not even that hot." 

"That’s just the wind." Sam pointed towards the sea. "You can’t feel the sun. But it’s still there."

It was quiet between them again, until Sam said: "Castiel and I were talking about driving up the coast. We want to look at Monterey. The aquarium is very famous."

"Oh, that sounds great." Dean put his hammer down. "I’m supposed to visit Sally today but I’m sure if I call her I can postpone it until tomorrow." 

Sam shook his head. His hand was still on Dean’s back but he avoided his eyes. 

"I wanted to go with Castiel. Just the two of us."

"Oh, okay. Then… have fun?" Dean looked at the roof. A sea of wooden shingle. 

"Maybe you could go to San Francisco. You’ve been meaning to take a real look for ages." Sam sounded like he used to when he’d tried to console Charlie as a child. "I can make you a list of things you’d like and —"

"When will you be back? I can make hamburgers so you wouldn’t need to eat out."

"Sunday night. We found a really nice guesthouse and —"

"You’re staying two nights?"

Sam slowly pulled his hand back.

"Dean… I just need a little time for myself."

"Yeah and I guess you need Castiel for that."

He could see the muscles in Sam’s cheek contracting. "It’s our wedding anniversary this weekend." Sam looked down. Dean doubted that he was that fascinated by the shingles. "You know that I love him."

Dean closed his eyes and focused on the smell of the sea breeze, the screeching of the seagulls. He didn’t know what to say. "So do I"/"I love you, too. Please don’t banish me from your life again."/"We were happy, weren’t we? Why aren’t we now?" 

He took a deep breath, then pulled his lips into a smile.

"I get that. It sounds like a good idea. I’m sure Cas will love it." He tried to keep his voice steady. "And it’ll give me time to rip the tiles off the wall in the lower bathroom and put new ones in. So you can’t complain about the noise or not being able to take a shower."

It looked like Sam was leaving but then he turned around again and pulled Dean into a tight hug. 

"Promise me you won’t do anything stupid while we’re gone," Sam said in quiet voice. His breath lifted a strand of his hair.

"Have you met me?" He laughed a little, and Sam gave him the courtesy and laughed too. They patted each other’s backs, as if only they played their parts right, things would fall into place eventually. 

A little later, Castiel’s golden pick-up drove along the coastal road and Dean was alone.

He worked on the roof for another hour. Then he packed his things up to take a shower and sit in the overgrown garden. He still had two hours until he had to visit Sally. Not enough time to start something but too much time to just sit in silence. 

"How are you doing, kiddo?" he wrote to Charlie. 

"My car broke down today," Charlie replied, followed by a crying emoji. 

"I told you to never trust a Japanese car. They’re 90 percent plastic crap."

Immediately the loneliness was lifted from him. It was unusual for Charlie to reply right away. Maybe she was just taking a break. Satisfied, he reached for the bottle of beer he had brought outside.

"My car is great."

"Apparently not." 

Charlie sent another crying emoji. 

"Can you fix it? Please?" Before he could answer: "You’d get a pie out of it too." 

Dean smiled. "Sure, when should I come over?"

"Does tomorrow work for you? I’m still at the hospital. The nurses are giving me funny looks so I better go!" 

He knew Charlie was working at the UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital as part of her studies. Dean was amazed at how quickly her time at university went by. Maybe that was normal. He had no idea about college. That had always been Sam’s area of expertise. 

He lowered the phone in his hand. At least he had an appointment for tomorrow. He didn’t know why he found it so depressing to be on his own, even though it was only for such a short amount of time. He had fought heaven and hell and nothing had brought him to his knees quite like the bouts of loneliness brought on by being disconnected from the people he loved. 

It hurt to think of Sam and Castiel. It hurt to think of them being content in each others silence. Of them sharing inside jokes. Having deep meaningful conversation. Of Sam being able to talk to Castiel, opening up to him in ways he never did with Dean anymore. Of them being happy and content, just the two of them. 

He took out his phone once more and wrote a message to Sam, telling him to have fun. They were probably still on the road. It would be a while until he’d read it. 

Even Sally was having a bad day. She was lying in her bed staring at the ceiling instead of meeting him in the common room as she usually did. 

"I think I’ve lived long enough now. I just don’t want to do it anymore."

She didn’t even seem happy about the alcohol he had brought her. 

"Don’t say that. Life still has a lot to offer." Dean felt like he had gotten the main part in a pretty lousy play. "Come on, why don’t you tell me about the past? About your glory days in Hollywood."

Now her eyes got some of their old shine back.

"Oh yes, back when I was still young and beautiful. And they still let you smoke in public."

* * *

When Dean stepped out of the old people’s home, it was still in the afternoon and the whole evening lay ahead of him, flat and uninviting. He could go back home and continue working on the house, but then he remembered Sam’s words of advice. He was already here, he might as well take a look at the city. 

He parked Baby near the harbor and took one of the tourist boats to Alcatraz. The prison building and the exhibition about the life of the inmates was interesting but he missed being able to talk to someone. Even the ticket seller seemed annoyed by his attempts to chat. Later he sat down in a restaurant, surrounded by tourists and locals, with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge that was slowly sinking into the haze of the city. He didn’t feel any better.  
  
He pulled out his phone; there were no new messages. All other guests came in pairs and had someone to talk to. For a brief moment he imagined that Castiel was with him. He wondered what he’d order from the menu and what Dean would tell him about today. 

"Just imagine! The prison guard families lived on the island too. Over eighty children in total."

In his desperation, he even imagined Sam being there with them and the lectures he would give him about the city’s historic development. He smiled just before putting another spoonful of Cioppino into his mouth. He didn’t even like seafood.

The fog that enveloped the city turned to rain. It fell heavily onto the orange marquise of the terrace. The waiters were frantic and started to carry the chairs inside. Most of the guests hurried to pay and leave. Some men held their jackets over their wives’ heads as they disappeared into the dark. He also saw a man doing this to another man and felt a pull deep inside him. He sat there for a while and listened to the rain before he paid and went to his car. 

It was just before eight. Finally a time he allowed himself to return home. The windshield wipers divided the rain and the neon light on his windshield, as he drove off the parking lot. 

How would Charlie get home if her car had broken down? 

Following an impulse, he did not turn onto the coastal road, but followed the signs to the hospital. The UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital shone like its own city in the dark. He drove to the visitor’s parking lot and switched off the engine.

"Awesome idea," he congratulated himself. "Finding her here is like looking for a needle in a haystack." He tried to remember which ward she was currently working at. Pediatrics maybe?

"I’m at the hospital," he wrote her. "Do you need a ride home?"

She didn’t respond. What if he didn’t find her? Maybe she’d already finished work. He stopped moving. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly have anything to lose. Nothing was waiting for him back home. 

In the entrance area of the children’s clinic there was a mood of desolation - exhausted parents, crying toddlers and various building blocks with which nobody played.

"How can I help you?" The woman at the front desk spoke in a professionally friendly and detached voice.

"I’m here for my niece, uh, Charlie Winchester."

"When was she admitted?" 

She typed something on her computer.

"She’s not a patient. She’s a doctor. Well, a student, I guess."

"Oh, okay." If she was surprised, she didn’t let it show. "I’ll let her know someone’s waiting for her. It’s gonna take a little while. You can sit down in the waiting area." 

"Thanks." 

He dropped onto one of the yellow plastic chairs.

He hoped he wasn’t inconveniencing Charlie. She wasn’t a child anymore. He was just her uncle. He shouldn’t have come. 

He felt the impulse to get up and leave, but she’d already been informed that he was here. He glanced at the woman at the front desk, waited until she was busy with another visitor, and then slipped through the glass door inside the building and towards the elevator. 

On the fifth floor, in the pediatric pedagogy ward, the corridor looked just as bleak as the ground floor. Except for the hallway, the entire station lay in semi-darkness. Emergency lamps spread their diffuse light. The silence that had spread was unnerving. The only noise was soft voices coming from the nurses’ room at the end of the hall. And then there was someone sobbing nearby. 

He approached the door slowly. It was a disinfection room for bedpans and other medical equipment. Maybe a child had hid in here. When his eyes got used to the darkness he recognized a sink. A young woman stood in the corner of the room crying. It only took a fraction of a second for him to recognize her by her movements, but in this fraction of time when she seemed a stranger, he was enchanted by her grief.

"Dean? What are you doing here?"

She rubbed over her eyes and tried to hide her tears.

"I wrote you a message." He noticed how rough his voice sounded. "I wanted to pick you up." 

"You can’t just burst in here like that." 

"I wanted to pick you up," he repeated again. "I’m sorry." He turned to leave. 

He was surprised that she followed him quietly. She didn’t say a word, neither to him nor to the nurses in the ward room. She followed him like a shadow or an invisible friend. Then she opened the passenger door of his car and got in while the rain was still pounding onto the roof.

"Sam and Cast are on some wedding day weekend trip," Dean explained. His hands clasped the steering wheel, although he hadn’t started the engine yet. "I wonder if their weather is this crappy too." 

He sure hoped so. Charlie sat in the passenger seat and remained quiet. Her hair was hanging in streaks from her head and drops had collected on her eyelashes. Rain, or maybe tears.

"I better take you home before you catch a cold." 

He started the car and turned on the heater.

"I don’t want to go back." 

Her voice sounded so different that he reflexively turned to her.

"This empty apartment and Jason looking at me with these big eyes and not knowing what to say to me. I’ll go crazy if I have to go back there." She looked him straight in the eye. "Let’s go somewhere and kill something that is evil and kills people. Like we used to. Just you and me." 

Her face looked as pleading as the child she’d once been. She had Castiel’s eyes, but her features reminded him a lot of Sam.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t do this kind of thing anymore. I mean hunting. I am too old." 

"Please. Just this once. It’s only this weekend and then we’ll be back. You still have the gear in the trunk, don’t you?" 

Of course he had. Some things would never change. He still checked his weapons daily and drew salt circles every night before going to sleep. It was an automatism. 

He cocked his head and said her name. He hesitated not because he really had to think if he wanted to do it, but rather because he wanted it too much.

"We don’t even have a case." 

"We do!" She took her phone out of her pocket. "In a small town near LA, nine people were found dead in a dumpster outside a fast food restaurant." 

"People disappearing in LA. Just because they turned up in a dumpster doesn’t make it a case." He laughed. "That’s the problem with big cities. You don’t even need any monsters." 

"It’s not in LA. It’a in a small coastal town. Less than ten thousand inhabitants." She pointed at her screen. "Besides, some of the victims were found with bite marks on their bodies," she read off the website. 

"Maybe they were in the trash for too long and animals got to them." 

"Yeah, sure. That’ll be it." 

That little, angry wrinkle had formed on her forehead.

"Charlie, I don’t know. It sounds dangerous and it takes over six hours to get to Los Angeles." 

"I can drive." 

"Do you really think that’s a good idea after your long shift? How much sleep have you had in the last days?" 

"I’m half angel, remember?" She laughed. "I need a lot less sleep than you." She looked at him. "Dean what’s wrong with you? You used to be less of a wuss." 

He was silent.

"What if we drive for a few more hours and then we look for a motel?" The way she looked at him now painfully reminded him of Sam. Back when he’d been her age. When Dean had just picked him up from Stanford and he’d torn him away from the life he’d wanted. "I know you." She shifted uneasily in her seat. "This life you’re living with Sam and Cas in this house — I know it’s not enough for you to just watch them be happy." 

He nodded in slow motion. Seagulls had looted a trash can and were throwing plastic coffee cups onto the street. 

"Okay."

"Really?”

"Yes. Let’s go." 

* * *

  
They drove the entire route in one go. More specifically, Dean drove and Charlie slept. Or maybe she was looking out of the window in silence. Her ribcage rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The Impala was like a boat sailing them safely through the night. They were in a bubble outside of time - it felt right. Maybe that’s why Dean didn’t stop until he saw the city lights on the horizon light up like a space station on a dark planet.

"Here we are." 

He pointed to the somewhat dilapidated motel building, its foothills clung to the slopes of a mountain range like ivy.

"Mhm?" she asked in a daze, raising her head. 

As he approached the front desk to get their rooms, he saw her making a call outside. She threw her arms up in the air and her face was contorted with anger. 

"You know he’s just worried about you, right?" 

He never thought that one day he’d find himself defending Jason of all people. He held out the room key. She accepted it without a real answer. 

"See you tomorrow, Dean. Have a good night." 

* * *

He fell asleep around three o’clock, but the first rays of the sun woke him. What time was it? Still half asleep, he reached for his phone, which was lying on the bedside table. Barely seven. Way too early to get up, but he knew there was no point to try for more sleep, so he put his feet on the little rug that lay in front of the bed and stretched.

Castiel had written. His message consisted mainly of photos of the places they had been and descriptions of all they had seen. One of the photographs must have been taken by a stranger; it showed Sam and Castiel smiling arm in arm in front of a gigantic pool filled with sharks.

"I think you would like it here." Castiel wrote. "It’s fascinating how close you can get to the animals."

Dean put the phone down. Castiel didn’t know any better. He would never understand that sometimes it was better to stay silent.

He felt a little better after showering. He decided to have breakfast and read the information Charlie had sent him that night.

"Room number?" asked the woman at the entrance to the dining room. Dean had to figure out what she meant at first and then tried to remember his room number. Finally he pulled out his key; the number was engraved onto the keychain.

"Fifteen."

The woman looked into her book.

"It’s the table at the far left near the window." She smiled. "Your colleague is already waiting for you."

Charlie was wearing a black pants suit that made her look older and more serious. She smiled when she saw Dean approaching.

"I hope you’re okay with being Agent Kent today. I’m Agent Wayne." She handed him an ID card. "I wanted to try something new. Musicians are always so boring."

"You named us after superheroes? And where did you get the suit from?"

She shrugged. "I couldn’t sleep."

"So you went out in the middle of the night? On your own?"

She reached for her coffee cup.

"Calm down, Dean. I’m an adult." 

The waitress came and refilled her cup. Dean held his out too. 

"I had so much time, I even came up with a background story for us." She reached for the milk and let clouds form inside her cup. "You are the old, disillusioned cop. You know, the divorcé with an alcohol problem and a traumatic past that haunts you. I am your new partner who was just assigned to you." She pointed to herself. "Young, ambitious and straight out of the FBI training center. That is why we constantly fight."

"This isn’t a stupid thriller that people read on their vacation because their own lives are too fucking boring. This is —"

"Okay, forget about it. I just thought." She stopped and looked at the clouds in her coffee. "Okay, so, in all seriousness: Where do we want to start? Police station? Mortuary?"

Dean shrugged. "I don’t care." 

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Charlie looked at him disapprovingly. "Okay, so then I decide: We’re going to the police station."

The police station in Carpinteria exuded the typical charm of a functional building built in the seventies. In his time as a hunter, Dean had been in so many stations like this one that they all blurred into one. At least the police station was tiny and the sheriff bored enough to deal with them directly. Dean suspected that this was mostly thanks to Charlie. The guy couldn’t take his eyes off her and kept offering a cup of coffee. He completely ignored Dean.

"I didn’t know the FBI employed angels, too," the sheriff said. 

"She’s just finished training."

Dean’s fist wanted nothing more than to meet this guy’s face. Charlie let him bounce off her smile.

"So, let’s circle back to the case: The nine bodies were found in a dumpster on the outskirts of Carpinteria three days ago?"

He nodded. "The employee who went to throw the trash out got the shock of his life." He laughed. "But I don’t see why the FBI would be interested in this case at all. The whole thing was a typical gang rivalry."

"Does something like this happen around here a lot?" Dean asked. The sheriff looked at him as if he saw him for the first time.

"Well, not really. But LA is coming closer all the time and they bring the problems with them too. You can read about it all the time in the papers. The Bloods hate the Crips and all that jazz."

"So the victims were all gang members?" Charlie had pulled out her pad and pretended to take notes.

"No idea." He sighed. "You can’t always tell just from looking at them."

"And how did you come to the conclusion that this was a gang-related crime then?" Dean asked. 

"Well, a few of them all had the same tattoo." He pointed to his chest. "Something satanic. Also they all had slipped through the cracks."

"What do you mean?" 

"The cracks of society. They were all scum. People nobody really misses." He laughed. "We still don’t know the identity of three of them and the others were runaways or dropouts who’d disappeared years ago."

"Ah." Dean could tell how difficult it was for Charlie to maintain her professionalism. "Where are the corpses now?" she asked. 

He nodded toward the back of the station.

"They’re with us until they are transferred to the Medical Examiner-Coroner in LA."

"Can I take a look?" 

"Honey, believe me, you don’t want to." He had leaned over to her. Again Dean felt the urge to smash his face in. "The whole thing is way too bloody and ugly for someone as beautiful as you are."

She also leaned towards him so that their faces were only a few inches apart.

"I’m a doctor, FBI agent and definitely not your honey." 

There was something in her eyes, maybe her angelic power, that made it clear how serious she was. Even the idiotic sheriff must have felt it; his entire posture changed. He cleared his throat.

"I will call a colleague who will take you there."

"Great. Much appreciated." 

* * *

It still felt strange to see Charlie in this new role. He knew she wasn’t a teenager anymore and he knew she worked at a hospital. But that wasn’t the same as watching her in a white coat and disposable gloves handling corpses. 

"The cricoid cartilage in the lower part of the larynx is completely destroyed," she explained and pointed to the ripped open neck. "He was a hunter, wasn’t he?" Then she pointed to the rib cage where the tattoo was.

Dean nodded.

"And if I’m not mistaken, that’s the vampire to go with that bite." 

Dean went over to one of the other steel tables where a young woman was lying, her throat slit. When he opened her jaw and touched the gums, a row of sharp teeth appeared.

"So we have a total of three dead hunters and six dead monsters."

Dean nodded again.

"Two vampires, a werewolf, over there is a shapeshifter, and those burned remains were probably a witch." 

"Since when do monsters band together?"

"And what about the hunters?"

Dean points to the young man with the tattoo.

"Do you know any of them?" Charlie asked. 

"No. I’m too out of the loop." He shrugged. "None of them are older than thirty." He washed his hands in the sink. "But I can ask around." 

Charlie was still leaning over the vampire’s body and seemed lost in thought.

"Were you listening to a word I just said?" Dean asked. 

"Of course, but what are we going to do now?"

"We’ll drive back to the motel and gather information."

"The hunters and the monsters must have met somewhere beforehand." She paused in thought. "Maybe we should throw ourselves into the nightlife?"

"Charlie, I have a bad feeling about this. We have no idea what’s going on and there were three of them and there’s only two of us."

She shook her head. "So? Don’t tell me you’re scared?" 

She took off her gloves, threw them in the trash can and left the tiled room.

* * *

Back in the motel room, Dean found more messages from Cas on his phone. They had continued their drive up the coast today. Castiel liked the small boarding house by the sea that Sam had picked out, and he reported that a seagull had stolen the bread from the plate on the neighboring table.

"It was very amusing to witness, although wild seabirds are not to be trifled with."

There was no new message from Sam. Dean considered writing to him, but what would he even say? "I’m currently solving a really dangerous case with your daughter involving all kinds of monsters. Have fun in your little idyllic pension. Lots of love."

He dropped the phone. He knew he shouldn’t be angry. Not with Sam. Not with Castiel. He looked for the right number in his contacts and hoped that it still worked. 

Jodie Mills picked up after the first ring.

"Dean Winchester. What a surprise. I was recently thinking of you, wondering what’d happened to you. I thought you were dead."

Her warm voice touched something in him and he wondered why he hadn’t called her earlier. 

"I’m a homeowner and fixer-upper now." He laughed. "We moved to California some time ago, to be closer to Charlie. We gave up hunting."

"California. That sounds nice and sunny. How is Charlie doing?" 

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called anymore. Their lives were just too different now. There was so little left of a Dean Winchester who didn’t hunt. 

"She’s doing well. She got married last year." He paused. "What about you?"

"Oh, the usual." He could picture her shoulder lifting. "Working, paying bills, hunting monsters. You know the drill."

He laughed, then the line went quiet.

"You probably didn’t just call to reconnect, did you?"

He took a deep breath and then told her about the dead hunters.

The line went silent once more. 

"I’ll have to ask around."

"You don’t know who they were?"

"No."

He couldn’t say why it disappointed him so much.

"There are rumors," she said finally. "But aren’t there always? Hunters like to talk. Especially drunk ones."

"What kind of rumors?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff. Monster armies. Someone wants to take over the world. The apocalypse is just around the corner. Things like that." Her laugh sounded fake. "I’ll ask around."

"Thanks, Jodie."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

* * *

The Blue Haven was the only bar in the whole town. If anyone had noticed something, they were bound to be here tonight. The place wasn’t half as run-down as Dean had feared. There were several pool tables, a small dance floor and a small stage for live music. With its square practical layout and its bright colors, it had probably looked very modern in the 1990s. Now the decor gave it a dated feel. A young man stood on the stage with his guitar around his neck, covering all kinds of hit songs from the past thirty years. When they entered the place, he was just playing Alanis Morissette’s Ironic. Dean had always hated the song. 

"It’s like rain on your wedding day. It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid," Charlie sang along. She had a good singing voice, but before Dean could comment on it, she had turned to the bar and ordered two beers.

"I used to play guitar for a bit," he told her over the noise. She handed him a beer. "But my father wouldn’t let me keep a guitar on the road."

He took a sip from his glass. She looked at him with so much pity in her eyes that he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. 

"I get it, there really isn’t enough space in a car. It’s deadweight." 

"Yes," she said. She drank her beer as if it was water and soon ordered another. 

"Do you think they’re here?" he asked. 

"Who?" 

The amateur singer had turned to Nirvana and it was much harder to ignore the music now.

"I don’t know. Monsters, hunters, anyone we’re looking for." 

"Maybe," she said.

When she went to order the third round of beers, Dean declined. 

"We should pace ourselves." Sam would have been proud of him for turning down a drink. Sam, who was driving up the coast with Castiel right now. Staying in small guest houses by the sea. "We shouldn’t be hammered in case we still have to fight."

"My body absorbs everything." Charlie spread her arms and then brought the glass to her mouth again. "Alcohol, diseases, poison, babies, everything." 

He considered what he could say or do. Take her in his arms and tell her time would heal all her wounds. 

He didn’t say anything.

"Take a rest as a friend, as an old memoria," the man sang and Dean chose to act as if he hadn’t heard Charlie’s words.

"It’s crazy, isn’t it?" Now she spoke louder. "Right about now I should have been sitting at home eating cucumbers with ice cream. I should have been round as a ball. I’d feel my baby kicking and I would have my packed bag next to me." She indicated to her empty bar stool. "I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be on the edge of some dump haunting monsters with you."

The singer chose this particular moment to take a break. Charlie’s sobs fell into silence between the occasional scraps of conversation. Some people turned around to them. Quite a few cast angry looks at Dean as if this mess was his fault. 

"Let’s go." 

"No." She tried to push his hand away. Her sobs sounded like those of a small child. More people looked over at them. "I don’t want to go. I want to kill something! I need to kill something before I can go back home." 

"Let’s just go outside for a bit," he suggested. "Just to take a little breather." 

Black eyeliner had drawn patterns under her eyes. Eventually, she nodded and slid off her stool to follow him.

After the stuffy confinement of the bar, the air outside felt fresh and cool. He felt the oxygen flooding his lungs.

Charlie’s sobs had ebbed away to a slight tremor.

"I didn’t mean to freak out like this. I’m sorry." Her voice sounded almost normal again. 

"There’s nothing you have to feel sorry about." He put an arm around her shoulder. She allowed the touch. "Absolutely nothing." 

"Do you know what a hybrid is?" She whispered against his shoulders. He didn’t know what she meant. "It’s a cross between two different species. Mules, Ligers, Geeps. Stuff like that. Zoos used to do all kinds of crazy experiments. Most of the hybrids wouldn’t live for very long. They were sick a lot." She paused. "It works better with crops, which is why hybrids are used almost exclusively in agriculture. They grow bigger and sturdier and are important for the industry: they cannot multiply, so the farmers have to buy new seedlings every year." She raised her head. "Nephilims are hybrids of angels and humans. That’s why they are more powerful than the angel who created them. There is a reason why angels aren’t allowed to procreate with humans." 

"Charlie, I get what you’re trying to do here, but that’s bullshit." He pulled her closer. "You were pregnant, weren’t you? And angels are usually dicks. That’s why they shouldn’t reproduce." 

She reminded him so much of Sam right now. Sammy, his little brother, who carried the burden of the world on his shoulders. Who even as a small child had believed himself bad down to the core. And here Dean was resenting him for a small weekend trip. For scraps of happiness. 

"You will have another baby." He was reminded of consoling her as a child, when she’d broken a glass and he’d told her they’d just buy a new one. Easy as that. "I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll be happy again. I swear." 

She nodded.

"Dean?" She looked up at him. "It was my grace that rejected the baby. I felt that something was wrong and wanted to heal myself but…" Her voice was little more than a whisper. "For my grace that just meant getting rid of everything that wasn’t part of me. I killed it." 

"No, Charlie, that’s not true."

He wanted to tell her so much more, but then there was a scream that tore through the night. 

Charlie jerked away from him.

"What was that?"

"I don’t know, but it came from over there."

He pointed into the darkness towards an overgrown garden. The light from the street lamps didn’t reach the wooden storage shed in the midst of it. Charlie pulled a silver knife out of her belt. He recognized its shape.

"Wait. What are you planning to do? Is that an angel sword?"

"Wedding present." She had already turned to leave. "Come on." 

She reminded him of a big cat. Every muscle in her body was tensed; there was no trace of tears and weakness left in her. 

"Can you light the way?" 

Dean nodded and raised the phone into the air, then they both started running. The beam of light danced over weeds that had bored their way through the asphalt and debris. 

"Maybe it was nothing? Maybe it was just a couple of drunk idiots fighting?"

There was another, clearly human scream. They paused and listened to the silence. Then they ran again. 

He could no longer tell whether Charlie was running in front of or behind him. He stumbled over something hard and went down onto his knees, only to get right up again. 

After reaching the back of the shed, they were able to locate the source of the scream. A young woman was struggling for her life. Her red dress fluttered in the air, the skin beneath it glowed white, contrasting with the dark figure that held her. The two turned as if in a dance. It looked almost passionate.

"Vampire!" Dean shouted towards Charlie and drew his knife. At that moment the vampire let go and ran towards Dean. He cursed himself for not bringing his machete. He’d known they were dealing with vampires after all. He narrowly avoided the attack. From the corner of his eye he saw Charlie sneaking up. She was doing good. 

The woman in the red dress stood rigid where she’d been left and watched the whole scene unfold. 

"Moveantur!"

He was sure he’d heard wrong. That his brain must have played a trick on him. Surely she had called out to warn him. But in the very next moment he felt everything inside him contract. The pain hit him like a wave. 

"Dean!"

He couldn’t breathe. Gargling, he spat dark blood onto the floor as the witch repeated the spell, her hands whirling in the air.

He saw Charlie turn around in panic. He saw the werewolf approaching. Dean wanted to call out to her in warning, but all that came out of his mouth was a pitiful bubbling noise.

Time dragged like chewing gum caught under the sole of a shoe. The clawed hand wrapped around Charlie’s neck. She screamed. 

Dean’s field of vision turned red. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Charlie screamed again. Angrier this time. With the last of his strength, he raised his eyes and blinked away the blood. There was a blue glowing light spilling out of her. One quick movement and the werewolf lay on the floor. With another cry, she attacked the witch.

"But how…" she whispered, then Charlie had her hands around her neck and squeezed.

"You will take the spell off him right now or you’re dead."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I’m your worst nightmare if you don’t stop his bleeding right away."

Dean felt the pressure go away. Greedily he sucked in the night air. Now that his senses were slowly returning, he noticed that they had an audience. They were surrounded by an array of monsters.

"She’s an angel," whispered a woman with snake-like eyes. "I’ve never seen one before."

"Shut up," the vampire hissed at her. "That’s impossible. Angels don’t care about people." 

"Charlie?" A woman stepped out of the crowd. Her dark hair was tied together in a high bun.

"Lila? What the hell are you doing here?"

The situation was bizarre. They looked at each other with pleasant surprise. A little overwhelmed maybe, like old friends who happened to run into each other when they’d least expected it. 

"I’ll tell you what she’s doing here." Dean slowly got up. "She tried to trap and kill us."

Lila cocked her head as if she had to think about his words. He had last seen her almost a decade ago. There was nothing left of the cocky teenager that he’d known; before him stood a grown woman and a mighty werewolf.

"I guess that’s fair." She raised her hands apologetically. "But I didn’t know it was you. Mike just told us about two hunters who came to the police station."

Only now did he recognize the sheriff who stood next to her, sporting a wide grin. What was he? A shape shifter? Who cared. He was staring at Charlie. "If we don’t have to kill you, maybe you’ll take me up on my offer for a date after all?"

Charlie rolled her eyes and ignored him. She turned to Lila. 

"But killing any other hunter would have been perfectly fine?"

"Yeah, absolutely." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and let her eyes wander over her fellow combatants. "Do you remember when we were teenagers and this hunter tried to kill us?"

"He was crazy. That doesn’t mean anything."

"He wasn’t crazy. He did what hunters do: kill monsters. That’s their job and they don’t give a shit about who’s in front of them, or whether you try to live by some stupid no-harm rule." 

She smiled, exposing her sharp teeth. 

"We all tried to adapt. We all wanted peace and where did it get us? Nowhere." Almost everyone in the group nodded, a few raised their fists. "We’ll never be able to live peacefully alongside humans. They’ll never change. They’ll always kill everything they don’t understand. They have hunted us down and killed us for centuries, now they get what’s been coming for them." 

The crowd muttered approval again.

"And that’s why you lure hunters into this dump to kill them?" Charlie shook her head. " Really sounds like you’re overthrowing the system. Congrats." 

"You have no idea, angel bitch. This is just the beginning of something much bigger." The vampire took a step forward.

"Shut up, Carlos." Lila grabbed his collar. She had her claws out. "Charlie’s my friend! Show her some respect." 

"Is that what we still are? Friends?" Charlie’s voice had turned sad. 

"Of course." 

"You kill people."

Lila was unimpressed. "And you hide who you really are." She took a few steps towards Charlie. "Look at you. You smell of nothing but humanity." She made a derogatory gesture. There was some laughter. "Why are you diminishing yourself? Why do you try to be like them even though you are born to be something much bigger? They will never understand you and they will never accept you as one of their own."

"I’m quite satisfied with my life, thanks."

"But are you happy?"

"Are you?" 

"I don’t need to be happy," Lila replied. "I have a mission. I’m changing something. This is bigger than just me and my happiness." She paused. "You can join us. Together we could change so much." She had taken Charlie’s hand into hers and squeezed it, hope in her eyes. 

Charlie shook her head. "And if I say no, will you let them kill us?"

Lila’s face remained blank. "And if I say you can go, will you use your powers to avenge those scumbag hunters you didn’t even know?" 

Dean caught his breath. Even the monsters seemed to feel the pivotal point approaching and gave each other nervous looks. 

"I don’t want to fight you." 

"Me neither." 

"Then… what?" 

The murmur among the monsters grew louder.

"We can’t let them go!" he heard from the crowd. "At least the hunter has to die." "Did you see what she did to Tom? Lila is right. Let’s just get out of there while we still can."

The young women were still facing each other.

"You remember that movie we used to watch as kids? The one with the fox and the hound?" 

"We’ll always be friends forever, won’t we?" 

"Yeah. Forever." 

Lili smiled and turned her back. "Just leave."

"Lila?" 

"Mhm?" She glanced at her over her shoulder. 

"Don’t take this the wrong way but I hope we won’t see each other again. Not like this anyway." 

She laughed. "I hope so too." 

Dean didn’t know where she was going. The important thing was that all the other monsters followed her. They disappeared into the darkness one by one. 

"Let’s go home," Charlie said into the silence of the night, when there were only the two of them left. 

* * *

When they got to the car, the rain started up again. The windshield wipers kept erasing the pictures that the rain was trying to paint onto the glass. They screeched with every move. 

"We’ll be back around noon tomorrow," Sam wrote. "The trip was great, but honestly, I’m looking forward to being home again. Did you get far with the bathrooms? I bet it looks great." 

"I think Sam’s and Castiel’s weekend tip was more relaxing than ours." Dean put the phone away when the traffic light turned green. Right now, it felt like they were the only two people left in the world.

Charlie smiled. "Life is strange, isn’t it?"

"You bet." 

"Did you imagine your life would turn out the way it did? When you were a kid?" 

Dean shrugged.

"I don’t think I imagined anything. I don’t know. I was always living from one day to the next, I guess." He laughed. "That sounds like something from a yoga calendar. I don’t mean it in a meditative way. It was more like: I didn’t make any plans because they wouldn’t have worked anyway and then I would have been disappointed."

She nodded. "Tell me about your past." 

"You mean from when Sammy and I were kids?"

She shook her head. "From before I was born." 

Dean looked ahead, but there was nothing but darkness and the white line that marked the road. Not even an orange streak of light on the horizon.

"You know the story. I was sick and so Sam and Cas went to a gig —"

"— and there they loved each other very much and that love created me." She rolled her eyes. "Don’t you think I’m old enough to hear the truth now?" 

"It’s the truth." 

"It’s part of the truth. It’s what you always told me so that I’d feel loved and protected and I highly appreciate the sentiment, but…" She broke off. "Look. This shit doesn’t even work in the most free-spirited hippy commune. No one jumps for joy when their boyfriend gets someone else pregnant and then they all build the nursery together." 

"I didn’t know Cas’ was your father at first." 

"Ouch." Charlie ran a hand over her face. "Who did you think got Sam pregnant? The Holy Spirit?" 

"I don’t know. Some angel." Now that he said it out loud, he felt ashamed for how incredibly stupid and naive he had been. "Sam always had this incredible talent to get himself in some real deep trouble - just think of the apocalypse." 

"What happened then?"

"Then you were born. I found out about Cas and we talked about it and then we all raised you in the bunker." 

Charlie’s eyes were still on him.

"What do you want to hear? How bad it all was? You want to hear how angry I was? Why I didn’t leave?" He clutched the steering wheel tighter. "Sam was really unwell back then. I think it was this mixture of lying to me, all those crazy hormones, him panicking about becoming a parent and all the unprocessed hell trauma." He laughed. "I really thought I was losing him." 

For a moment he considered explaining to Charlie why Sam had wanted to give her away, but it would feel like stabbing his brother in the back. This here was private enough. There were things that weren’t his to explain.  
  
"And Cas? Cas didn’t get any of it. He didn’t get what he’d done to Sam, or how much he’d hurt me." Dean laughed again. "Jesus. He didn’t even get why heaven was so upset. Think of what it must have looked like to them: an angel who’s tried to take charge over heaven a bunch of times using the true vessel of Lucifer to create a nephilim." 

She had fallen silent.

"I shouldn’t talk about these kinds of things with you." Dean shifted gears. "I hope you know you were very important to Sam, once he’d caught himself. He always put your wellbeing first. That’s why he stayed with us in the bunker at all."

"I know." Charlie pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile. "But I guess having children isn’t really a cure-all when your life sucks."

"No, it only makes things more complicated."

"First they mess up your body and later you don’t have any time for yourself. At first they’re small and needy and later they are big and ungrateful." 

"And they never want to eat the things that their parents cook for them and they try to rebel in whatever way they can." 

He nudged Charlie’s side.

"Yeah, they hate everything their parents do." She got serious again. "Children are horrible. We’re really the lucky ones. Life has a myriad of other possibilities."

"Yeah, absolutely. I mean, you know I love you but I’d never would have wanted to swap places with Sam. Just imagine… No, thank God, Cas didn’t pick me." 

She laughed. Then there was silence. He turned on the radio, the volume low.

"You should get some more sleep before we get back."

She leaned her face against the glass. "Are you still coming over tomorrow to fix my car?"

"Of course."

Just when he thought she had fallen asleep, she turned her face back to him. 

"I think you’re the only person who understands."

"What do you mean?" He was surprised by the softness in his voice. 

Her blue eyes were on him, thoughtful and red-rimmed, as if she had cried.

"What it feels like. To lose something that you wanted so so badly, knowing that it was never meant for you."

Before he could answer, she had turned away again. This time she did fall asleep. He thought about her words for a long time as the Impala drove them safely through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading & sticking with this through all the drama. We were thrilled that the story ellicited so much emotional response, good and bad. Having people pick apart and discuss what you wrote is like getting a dopamine shot, even at times when we were very surprised by some responses. But, death of the author and all that. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us ♥


End file.
